


23

by felix_felicis33



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, Fashion Designer Kurt, M/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-04
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2018-03-10 11:42:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 132,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3289079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felix_felicis33/pseuds/felix_felicis33
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine doesn't think he'll ever fall in love, or get the chance to, but that all changes when he meets a man with blue eyes and a beautiful smile at a coffee shop. The world seems a brighter place when Kurt enters his life. The only problem is, he doesn't belong here with Kurt. He belongs ninety-one years in the past, back in the year 1923.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

I felt for sure last night  
That once we said goodbye  
No one else will know these lonely dreams  
No one else will know that part of me

\- '23' - Jimmy Eat World

 

~

New York City never failed to calm him down. 

It was something about the steadiness of it, the reliability; it was as predictable and familiar as his own heartbeat. It was the way swarms of countless people passed by him and rows of buildings towered over him, making his problems and worries seem insignificant, their nagging pain softened and lost in the vast city. It was also how ceaseless the city was, how there was always people on the go, always traffic on the roads; New York really didn’t ever sleep. 

On days when life threatened to overwhelm him and everything he was keeping hidden deep inside him bubbled close to the surface, Blaine would hit the city’s streets and just walk and regain himself, let all of his stress and worries melt away in the comforting rush of New York. 

But the city alone wasn’t always enough. On days like today, when it was just too much, when he was close to breaking point and tipping towards despair, he needed more and he couldn’t be alone with his own thoughts. So he asked Wes to join him and together they would walk the city streets.

Wes had been his best friend for as long as he could remember. Although he had a number of friends and acquaintances, Wes was the only one he considered a close friend and was the only one who knew more than the bare minimum about his life. He was the only one who knew.

“They’re not going to let this go, Wes,” Blaine sighed, glaring moodily at a newspaper stand across the road. “They’re serious this time.”

Leaning back against the sun-warmed brick of the building behind him, Wes smiled sympathetically at his friend. “Is there no way you can get out of this? Can you not tell your parents you don’t get along with this girl, or something like that?”

Blaine’s scowl lessened, the deep frown lines on his face almost smoothing out. When he turned to face Wes he looked tired, the lack of sleep plainly visible as greyish bags under his eyes and drawn lines on his face.

“But I do get along with her, she’s a nice girl, I just don’t see her that way; I’ll never see any girl that way and I don’t-” He passed a hand over his face, giving his head a small shake. “I don’t think I could go through with more lying and pretending; I just couldn’t,” he confessed, sounding slightly desperate as he looked pleadingly at Wes, willing him to have some magic solution to solve all his problems and make everyone happy.

Wes just stared at him helplessly. “I don’t know, Blaine,” he apologised. “I wish I could help, but I just don’t know.”

Blaine waved away his apology. He knew Wes couldn’t help him – no one could, this was something he had to deal with on his own – and he hadn’t really expected him to respond in any other way, but when he felt this trapped and depressed he had to look to Wes for help, it was a reflex reaction. Wes was the only person who really knew him and as such, was the only person he could truly be himself around. It was exhausting keeping a mask on all the time, so whenever he was with Wes and finally relaxed, he let his fake persona drop, and all of his troubles, worries, and frustrations spilled over and he found himself unable to avoid telling Wes about them. He felt guilty dumping all of his problems on his best friend every time he saw him, but if he didn’t talk about it with someone he would crack.

Wes patted his arm. “You’re too nice for your own good. If you were able to tell your parents you didn’t get along with any girls they urged you to take on dates you could buy yourself some more time.”

Blaine let his head fall back against the wall with a resigned sigh. “I could buy all the time in the world and still be unable to sort this. I can’t tell them the truth, Wes, but the only way I’ll be happy is if I can be myself and love who I want to love.” He blinked away the film of tears that turned the newspaper stand and busy street into a blur. “And I don’t think that’s ever going to happen.”

He was repeating himself again, he knew it. He’d been saying the same thing over and over since the day he couldn’t handle keeping it all to himself anymore and broke down, admitting to Wes that he was homosexual. He’d been terrified that he was about to lose his best friend, but Wes hadn’t been at all disgusted by his confession, not being one to believe all the misconceptions, nasty rumours, and bad publicity homosexuals received. He said he’d known for a while that Blaine was keeping something to himself, something that often made him look plain ill at the parties his parents threw at their house, and had wanted to help him but didn’t want to corner him into revealing what it was if he wasn’t ready to tell anyone. 

Blaine sometimes wondered whether he’d done the right thing by unloading his biggest secret onto Wes. He’d only done it out of sheer desperate need for someone to listen and to receive some support, have someone help him carry the heavy weight he had been bearing for years now, but he knew he’d given Wes an unnecessary worry. Now Wes was stuck feeling helpless and inadequate as he repeated the same words of encouragement, sounding progressively weaker and looking increasingly worried as time went on. Whenever he noticed this, Blaine insisted he was helping, but Wes knew what kind of person he was: an expert at wearing a mask and at locking his true feelings deep inside.

Blinking hard, Blaine pushed himself away from the wall with his forearms and set off down the street, needing the walk to help settle his emotions and clear his head of all the jumbled memories and thoughts that were crowding his mind. He could sense Wes scurrying to catch him up, no doubt surprised by his sudden departure, and sure enough, his friend appeared beside him a moment later just as they paused to wait for the road to clear so they could cross. 

They were silent as they walked, each lost deep in their own thoughts as they automatically swerved around the men in neat suits and hats on their way to work. Blaine found himself frowning absently at a group of men standing by the doors of a business firm, all clutching briefcases as they examined the morning’s newspaper. All these men here in the city just now – surely one of them was like him, feeling pleasant flutters in the stomach at the sight of a handsome man and daydreaming about broad shoulders, strong arms, and a faint shadow of stubble around a sculptured jaw? He knew homosexuality wasn’t as rare as many people seemed to think, so why couldn’t he meet someone like him? It didn’t even have to be a man he could imagine falling in love with, having someone to talk to who truly understood him would be invaluable. It would give him so much hope his life would improve. 

He noticed Wes glancing at him a few times, his mouth opening, probably about to offer him some support or advice, but he would close his mouth and turn away without saying anything every time. Blaine knew that Wes wanted to help him, but was in way over his head and had no idea what else he could possibly do or say to help. Blaine understood this and never expected him to help each time he ranted about his latest difficulties and frustrations; all he’d ever wanted from Wes was someone to simply listen, someone to share his secret with.

“I could just pretend with this girl,” Blaine said reluctantly, speaking as they approached a recently opened coffee shop. Wes’ brow immediately furrowed in concern. They came to a stop a few feet away from the café’s doors. “There are worse women I could pretend for.”

“But do you want to spend the rest of your life pretending?” Wes asked him seriously.

Shrugging, Blaine stared dully at a spidering crack running in a diagonal line across a brick in the wall beside him. “What else can I do, Wes?” he asked miserably.

Wes bit his lip, watching him with sad eyes. “I wish I could be of more help. I wish I knew of a way to make the world see there is nothing wrong or sick about who you are and the way you feel.” He rubbed at the skin beneath his eye. “But other than doing something drastic like moving and trying to find somewhere you could be yourself, all you can do is stay strong and hope the future is better.” He looked apologetic as he said this, as though it was his fault Blaine’s life was this way. 

Some more guilt washed over Blaine. He sighed and absently traced the long crack in the brick with his finger. “I just wish the world was more accepting and willing to see that not everything is black and white.” He ran his finger up and down the length of the split in the brick. “I wish there was somewhere I could be accepted and liked for who I really am, somewhere I don’t have to hide behind a mask every day, somewhere I can be truly happy – is it too much to ask for me to be happy?” He raised his eyes to look at Wes with the intention of apologising and suggesting they talk about something else, but before he could do so he was hit by a wave of dizziness so strong he couldn’t even see Wes’ face or any of the street they were standing on. The ground tilted under his feet and there was a loud ringing in his ears. He had no idea which way was up and which was down, or whether he was still on his feet. Spots of blackness obliterated his blurred vision until he was completed surrounded by a darkness that was pressing in on him from all sides, squeezing the air out of his lungs. The ringing in his ears went up a pitch. His stomach churned. And then his vision slowly came back, soft, blurred shapes of buildings and the street gradually coming back into focus. His ears popped, and then suddenly he was gasping for breath and staring at that crack in the coffee shop’s wall. Ears still ringing faintly, he blinked hard and fast to clear the blurriness from his vision, focusing on the crack running through the brick, which now looked a little softer around the edges, or maybe his vision was still slightly off. 

Bracing his hand against the wall, he panted, still feeling mildly nauseated, his stomach churning unpleasantly like he was suffering from motion sickness. He breathed through his mouth and waited for the feeling to pass, confusion filling him as his nausea and dizziness faded. What had just happened?

Feeling slightly hurt that Wes wasn’t checking that he was ok, Blaine looked away from the café wall to where he knew Wes was standing – and stared. Wes was no longer there. In fact – Blaine spun in a slow circle and scanned the people passing – he was nowhere to be seen. He frowned until a thought struck him – maybe Wes had seen Blaine falling ill and had run off to get help. He nodded to himself; that made sense, though it was a little odd that Wes didn’t call out for help and stay with him instead of leaving him alone. 

And speaking of odd…

Blaine frowned at the glass-fronted building across the traffic-clogged road – that hadn’t been there before… Neither had the strange building next to it with the highly reflective large number over its entrance. In fact…

Blaine spun in another circle, his trembling legs wobbling somewhat. Nearly everything around him looked foreign, from the cars on the road to the clothes worn by the people walking by. He stared at a sleek black car that rumbled past, crouched low on the road and with windows somehow too dark to see through, until a man in a neat suit accidently bumped into him, causing Blaine to stumble backwards until he fetched up against the café’s wall. The man barely spared him a glance as he continued to march down the street, holding something to his ear and talking fervently, apparently to himself. Nobody was looking the man oddly. 

Starting to panic, Blaine lifted a hand to rub tentatively at his temple, wondering if he’d hit his head and was now hallucinating some kind of strange world where no one judged people who were different, where no one stared at the man conversing with himself as he walked down the street. He had completely blacked out, so it was a possibility. 

Letting his head rest back against the wall, he closed his eyes and breathed deeply, trying to make the hallucinations pass. When his heart rate settled back to a steady rhythm and the uncontrollable trembling in his limbs disappeared, he opened his eyes again, fully expecting Wes to be standing in front of him and familiar New York to be in the background.

Strange, glass-fronted buildings, foreign cars, and odd fashion met his hopeful eyes. 

Fighting down the panic rising inside him, he looked around for something familiar – anything – and tried not to let the desperate noises caught in his throat, which bubbled closer to the surface the more unfamiliar things he saw, escape. What had happened to him? 

The faces of passers-by blurred and the sounds of too much traffic, footsteps, and voices became weirdly distorted, slipping between loud and soft like a radio shifting in and out of tune. The street looked familiar, but at the same time, appeared completely foreign.

His hands shook visibly as he tried to make sense of what was going on, his mind ticking rapidly through various possibilities, each as absurd as the last. He hadn’t been drinking, he’d never hallucinated before in his life, he was pretty certain he wasn’t going mad, but…maybe he had hit his head? 

Squeezing his eyes shut again, he willed it to go away, willed this strange, warped version of New York to disappear and for him to return to leaning against a wall with Wes by his side.

Nothing changed when he opened his eyes again. Somehow, he hadn’t really expected it to; a small part of his brain, the part more willing to believe in the fantastic and impossible was telling him this wasn’t the result of a hard blow to the head, this was real. 

He had to talk to someone, had to prove to himself this wasn’t real. He stepped away from the wall and swallowed thickly, peering anxiously up and down the busy street, searching for someone suitable. His gaze landed on a young man with coiffed chestnut hair who was dressed relatively normally in a waistcoat and bowtie. Blaine hesitated, nerves making his palms sweat and his mouth dry up, and watched the man walk by, before shaking his head and telling himself to just do it before the man disappeared. 

He darted out into the crowds after him. “Excuse me, sir!”

Several people glanced at him briefly while the man with the coiffed hair paused and turned to face him, his blue eyes curious and guarded, his smile polite and tight-lipped. 

“Can I help you?” he asked cautiously and Blaine had to take a second to stare; he’d never heard a voice like that before, it was soft and sweet, almost musical. 

“I- Um…” Blaine began, but he was stumped – what could he ask exactly? Is this real or a figment of my imagination? Do you really exist or are you being conjured up after I hit my head? And there was still that part of him insisting this was real and he couldn’t just ask someone those kinds of things. “Um…” He fumbled around awkwardly for words. 

The man was still staring at him expectantly, becoming more suspicious the longer Blaine hunted for what to ask. Blaine could see it, like a shield being pulled over the man’s eyes hiding any traces of vulnerability or emotion. Blaine spotted the unfamiliar glass building out the corner of his eye. “I- I’m a bit lost,” he said, partially speaking the truth. “Could you possibly tell me exactly where we are?”

“Oh,” the man said, his wariness lifting. Blaine congratulated himself on his story – New York was an easy city to become lost in and with his current mental state he was sure he easily passed as disorientated and confused. 

“We’re on the corner of West Houston and Bleecker Street,” the man informed him, glancing fleetingly over his shoulder at the street corner behind him. He gave Blaine another small smile. “Where are you trying to get to?” 

Blaine had hit another stumbling block. He wasn’t trying to go anywhere – other than back to reality or wherever Wes was – and he wasn’t actually confirming what was happening here. “I’m not exactly sure.” 

As the man frowned in confusion, Blaine was bumped again, this time by a harassed-looking woman tapping frantically at something she held in the palm of her hand. Blaine stumbled in an effort to keep his balance, automatically apologising to the woman. She marched on, either not hearing him or ignoring him. 

The man in the bowtie was now eyeing him with sudden understanding. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

Blaine blinked. “I- no. No, I’m not.” He looked around wildly – there was no longer a newspaper stand across the road. “What date is it today?”

“The sixteenth of April,” the man replied, his eyebrows drawing closer together as his frown deepened. When Blaine’s expression didn’t change any, he added, “It’s Wednesday.”

The same date as it was in the normal world, but the day was different – it had been a Monday back in reality. It didn’t make sense. Why was everything here so logical yet illogical at the same time? If this was happening inside his own head then surely it wouldn’t be making this much sense, surely any questions he asked would be answered with nonsense or ignored, and that which would normally be considered impossible would be happening, like it did in dreams. Everything here just made too much sense and felt far too real to be false. Conversely, that didn’t mean it was logical, and it didn’t explain how he had ended up in this strange version of New York, or where Wes had disappeared to. 

Without thinking, Blaine asked weakly, “What year is it?”

The man’s eyebrows shot up towards his impressively high swept hair and his expression changed from confusion to one that clearly showed he thought Blaine was crazy. “It’s twenty-fourteen,” he replied cautiously. He was leaning slightly away from Blaine now, most likely on the verge of hurrying away from the dishevelled man in a wild panic who didn’t even know what year it was.

Blaine had no idea what to say now. If this man was telling the truth – and he had no reason to believe otherwise – then he was somehow ninety-one years in the future. It sounded insane, impossible, yet it was all too real for it to be a hallucination. This was real. 

He exhaled slowly, trying to calm down and make sense of the avalanche of thoughts, realisations, and emotions hitting him at that moment. This was real, he was somehow in the future, and he had no idea what to do or how to get back to his own time. 

His legs trembled violently and he fought to keep them from buckling under the sheer weight of what was happening right now. He took another deep breath and nodded at the man. “Ok. Ok, thank you for your time. I’ll let you get on with your day.”

He smiled politely at the man and turned to head down the street, not at all sure of where he would go, but knowing he couldn’t stand here hoping to return to his own time. He’d only taken a few steps when:

“Wait!”

He heard running footsteps and then the man caught up to him, placing a hand on his arm to stop him. He looked torn, and he hesitated as he searched Blaine’s face with eyes of a colour Blaine couldn’t put a name to. 

“Where- Are you sure you’re ok?” he asked Blaine, a hint of concern just discernible beneath the dozens of conflicted emotions evident in his tone of voice. “You seem really confused and you don’t look all that well.”

Blaine swallowed, his throat making a clicking sound from the dryness. “I’m fine,” he answered, his voice a little scratchy. “But thank you for your concern.”

The man hesitated again, before nodding and stepping back. He fumbled around for words for a moment before eventually saying, “Have a nice day.”

“You too.”

Their eyes met briefly and Blaine’s heart fluttered, stumbling over its steady rhythm of beats at the connection, leaving him with a racing heart when he turned away from the man once again and set off down the street he no longer knew. 

~ * ~

Glaring mutinously at the back of the girl taking far too long to order a coffee, Kurt replied to a text from his roommate, Rachel. When the text was sent and the girl in front still hadn’t ordered he began tapping his foot loudly and pointedly against the floor. The barista shot him an apologetic smile, but the girl didn’t hurry up any and continued to query some of the drinks on the menu. Kurt rolled his eyes. He wasn’t usually this impatient, but he was stopping for coffee a little later than originally planned. He had thought about going without coffee today so he could cross everything off the day’s to-do list before his double-date with Rachel and Finn in the evening, but he needed the caffeine too badly after a late night sketching design ideas that couldn’t wait until morning.

He sighed as the barista pointed out which of the cakes and cookies were vegan, his thoughts returning to the reason why he was stuck behind a picky customer at his favourite coffee shop: the confused stranger he had helped on the street outside. 

He still hadn’t decided whether the man had been drunk, had psychological problems, or was genuine. If asked what he would think if a stranger with wild panic in his eyes stopped him on the street and demanded to know where he was and what year it was, Kurt would reply saying he would think they were crazy straight off the bat. There had been something about the man, though, something in his eyes that made Kurt believe he was genuine and none of his questions had been a joke. He had no substantial guesses for why the man had been asking those questions, but he was almost one hundred percent sure those questions were important to him. 

The girl finally moved away from the counter and Kurt stepped forward to order, so distracted by the strange meeting and the undoubtedly odd stranger he forgot to glare at the girl as she passed him.

He nursed his coffee thoughtfully as he walked to the offices for the up-and-coming fashion label he worked for. He couldn’t stop thinking about the stranger. He’d had people stop him on the streets to ask a question before, so he had no idea why this particular encounter was sticking in his mind. Sure, the man hadn’t been a typical tourist or anything, but he was still just someone he’d never see again who’d asked a few quick questions, so why couldn’t he brush the encounter off?

Setting his coffee down on his desk and pulling a stack of sketches towards him, he tried to push the stranger from his mind by throwing himself into his work.

It didn’t work.

The honey-gold colour of the bodice of one of the dresses reminded him of the man’s eyes, a waistcoat he was adding the final touches to was reminiscent of the one worn by the stranger… He didn’t know why he kept remembering their encounter, if it was because he was concerned after seeing how confused and almost scared the man had been, or because of something else – he had been very handsome… 

Groaning, Kurt dropped his pencil and rested his elbows on his desk, letting his head fall forward into his hands and rubbing at his eyes which were stinging slightly from tiredness and the strain of focusing on tiny, fiddly details for several hours. Pushing himself and not taking a break wasn’t working, he needed some time out to organise his thoughts and get his head on straight again. 

He leant back in his chair and slid his hands down off his face. Eyeing his long since empty coffee cup, he debated for a moment about going out to get another one, swiftly rejecting the idea; he didn’t want to be on that street again today. 

He stretched his arms above his head, the joints popping faintly, tilted his head from side-to-side to work out the stiffness in the muscles, checked his phone and replied to a text from Rachel concerning outfit choices for that night….

The man could have been drunk, it had been early, but it was still possible, he could have been out late last night. That would explain his disorientation and apparent distress. Being high on some kind of drug may produce similar effects he supposed… 

"Stop thinking about that guy,” he chastised himself. “You’re worried that someone as innocent and beautiful as him is scared and lost in the city, but you helped him, he thanked you and walked away – what more can you do? The guy’s probably back home by now, so stop it; you have your own problems to worry about.”

Like how Rachel Berry would kill him if he was late home because he didn’t get these sketches finished in time.

Reaching for his pencil, he turned back to his designs, thoughts of the dark-haired man who had stopped him on the street now pushed to the back of his mind. 

~ * ~

“Two minutes later and you would have been late.”

Kurt sighed and marched past Rachel who was standing with her hands on her hips, already dressed and ready to leave, her glare the first thing that greeted him when he unlocked the door of their apartment. He dumped his satchel on his bed and strode over to his closet to pick out an outfit.

“But I wasn’t two minutes later, so I’m not late,” he retorted, a little more sharply than he intended, but he was ready for today to be over and really not in the mood to go out tonight. “Besides,” he added, tugging a shirt from its hanger, “that was only the time I agreed to be home by, it’s not like I’m actually almost late for something.”

Frowning at the bite in his voice, Rachel eyed him thoughtfully as he grabbed some more clothes and headed towards the bathroom to change. Kurt closed the bathroom door between them and began getting changed, massaging his temples before unbuttoning his shirt. He could feel a headache starting to take up residence somewhere behind his eyes. 

“You work too hard,” Rachel informed him through the closed door, her voice softer than before, almost concerned. “You’ve been coming home late almost every day lately.”

Kurt squeezed his eyes shut at the sudden throb in his head – definitely a headache. “I leave the office on time most days,” he told her, folding up the shirt he’d taken off and setting it aside on the bathroom counter. “And I can’t just stop and come home when inspiration has hit; fashion design isn’t a typical nine-to-five job.” He pulled on his pants, grabbed his dirty clothes, and padded back through to his bedroom to find a still-frowning Rachel seated on his bed. “You’ve never worried about my work hours before,” he pointed out, checking his hair in the mirror and deciding it was fine the way it was. He wasn’t in the mood to go all out on his outfit and hair tonight, in fact, he’d rather spend the evening on the couch in an old t-shirt and pyjama pants. 

“You look ill today and I’m starting to worry you’re pushing yourself too hard,” Rachel said.

Turning to face his friend, Kurt forced a smile. “I have a bit of a headache just now, that’s all. I appreciate your concern, Rachel, but I’m fine,” he assured her. “Today was a bit of a weird day, that’s all.”

Rachel’s frown smoothed out. “Weird how?”

Panicked golden eyes swan to the forefront of Kurt’s mind; he pushed the memory away. “It’s nothing really, just work stuff.” He checked the time on his phone. “We’d better get going or we will be late.”

To his relief, Rachel accepted his answer and nodded, hurrying from the room to fetch her purse, her excitement for the evening returned. Kurt tucked his phone and wallet into the pockets of his pants with a sigh. Though he welcomed the distraction the evening would bring, the last thing he felt like doing was spending several hours in a restaurant with Rachel, Finn, and some guy he didn’t even really like all that much. It was with a complete lack of enthusiasm that he hitched a smile on his face and reluctantly followed Rachel out of the apartment.


	2. Chapter 2

Blaine walked. The walk brought him none of the peace that it used to, instead causing not only his panic to rise high enough to make him jumpy, shaky and unable to think straight, but more worries to pile up inside his head. The city failed to make these worries seem insignificant; if anything, it heightened them, emphasizing how bad and also mind-blowing the situation he was in actually was. Because if the walk taught him one thing, it was that this was definitely real. As unbelievable as it was, he was actually in the future, no matter how much he tried to deny it.

He gave up on searching for evidence of this being a vivid dream or hallucination three hours after he started walking, accepting the truth and marvelling in the New York of the future instead. Rather than hunting for something to prove this wasn’t real, he admired the extraordinary architecture, the strange fashions, and wonderful technology. He caught glimpses of the old New York he was familiar with amongst the modern, the fantastic, and the unbelievable, some of it so jaw-droppingly amazing he had to stumble to a stop and stare, such as the sheer dizzying height of some of the buildings. And then there was the plain perplexing: strange, shiny devices nearly everyone hurrying past him held to their ears and spoke into or held in their hands and tapped at with rapidly moving fingers.

He walked until the panic, which had been fuelling him for the last few hours, was no longer enough to keep him going and he began to feel the ache of his feet, the slump of his shoulders, and the tired strain of his muscles. He walked until his steps were dragging and darkness had fallen around him, the city lit up, glowing more brightly than he had ever seen it. It was only then that he came to a stop and really thought about the situation he was in.

Falling back against a wall, he breathed in the cooling city air, and thought. 

It was twenty-fourteen and though the city may be somewhat familiar to him, none of the people or places were. He had no family that he knew of in this time, no friends, nobody he could go to for help. He had no home, no shelter to spend the night, and returning to his own time was looking increasingly unlikely with each passing minute. He had little choice but to find a hotel to spend the night in.

It wasn’t hard to find a hotel in New York: he only had to walk a few more blocks until he found one that was suitable, one that claimed to have opened a couple of years into the future of Blaine’s time. The idea made his head hurt and he stared at the date proudly displayed on the hotel’s façade with his forehead scrunched into a frown for a moment before entering through the heavy glass door, a feature obviously added more recently.

He confused the receptionist with some of the money he tried to pay with from the wallet thankfully still in his pocket. She peered at him curiously as he fumbled with notes and coins, trying to count out the correct amount – which seemed a little extreme – without handing over currency that was out of circulation. Blushing and almost dropping his wallet under her scrutinising stare, he took the room key she handed him, before stammering his thanks and hurrying off.

He collapsed gratefully onto the bed once he’d let himself into the room, more exhausted than he could ever remember being, drained to the point where he could no longer do anything beyond lying on his back and staring at the ceiling and the kaleidoscope of city lights playing across it. He didn’t even have the energy to switch on the light. He was asleep within minutes.

Some unknown stimulus jolted him awake. He was immediately panicked and confused, the feeling of foreign settling on him the second he blinked his eyes open. Convinced he’d had some weird, unsettling dream, he flailed into an upright position until he was sitting on the edge of the bed with a racing heart, taking in his surroundings with wide eyes. A small yelp escaped him.

Unfamiliar walls, a strange bed, and on the dresser directly in front of him, an odd, black, rectangular-shaped device which reflected his pale face. It was that which reminded him where he was.

The future.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he willed himself to be back in his own time. He pictured the brick buildings which lined the city streets; the mansion house with its manicured lawns on the city’s outskirts where he lived; the music room where he spent most of his time with its wood-panelled walls and grand piano centrepiece – as if by imagining it all hard enough he could transport himself back. He wasn’t all that disappointed when he opened his eyes to find himself still in the odd hotel room; he’d never gotten his hopes up for somehow, magically being whisked back to 1923, despite time travel being possible in this year he was in now – for how else could he have ended up here?

Blinking in the bright stream of sunlight that blazed into the room as the sun peeked out from behind a cloud, Blaine clambered to his feet, a little stiff after having slept in his clothes in a rather uncomfortable position. He stretched, listening to his joints pop, and made a decision.

He couldn’t spend the day sitting in this room waiting for a possibly elusive something to happen. Someone in this time must have sent him forward in time to this year for a reason and he wouldn’t discover who had done this and why by staying shut up in a hotel room.

After quickly washing up in the bathroom – gaping at the ways people of this time functioned – and smoothing out his wrinkled clothes as best as he could, he left the room, scurrying down a flight of stairs to the ground floor where the smell of cooked breakfast was wafting through the marble lobby from a wide doorway to his left. His stomach gave an unsettled squirm at the smell and he passed over the idea of eating, heading to the receptionist’s desk where he handed over the room key with the message that he may be back tonight. And then he left the hotel, stepping out into the busy street beyond the doors.

It must be early; still the hectic hours where the businessmen and – as was pleasingly very common now – women hurried to work. There was a slight bite to the air which spoke of approaching autumn and Blaine tucked his hands into the pockets of his suit jacket as he set off down the street, lost in the flow of people.

He had no idea where he was going as he aimlessly followed the crowds. He was growing more certain that he’d ended up in this time for a reason and was half-waiting for something to happen that would explain everything. He let his feet carry him through the streets until, with a start, he looked up to find he was standing outside the coffee shop he’d been outside when he’d somehow managed to travel through time. He blinked at the doors, a stray thought entering his head that maybe this café had something to do with everything and that was why he’d been drawn to it. This was somewhere familiar to him – somewhere from his own New York - and for some reason that seemed important. He nibbled on his bottom lip as he surveyed the front of the coffee shop and then after a moment’s hesitation, he stepped inside – and froze.

The interior of the small coffee shop was almost identical to how he remembered it. The current owners obviously wanted to have a vintage style and had kept features from the twenties when the café was first opened. Blaine moved further inside, taking in the small round tables, the original espresso machine on the wall and the display: baked goods and packages of coffee beans.

Noticing a woman behind the counter frowning at him, he gave his head a small shake, as if clearing it of cobwebs, and approached the counter slightly nervously.

“What can I get you?”

Blaine scanned the boards on the wall frantically, not even recognising some of the items listed. He eventually settled on a black coffee and took it to an empty table in the corner. He felt as if everyone was staring at him – and maybe they were, he did stand out a little with his outfit, he hadn’t seen anyone else wearing a waistcoat, suit jacket, and fedora hat; it appeared that was considered either outdated or too formal for everyday wear.

As he sipped at his coffee his thoughts drifted to his own time, to home. What had happened after he had left so abruptly? Did Wes and his parents frantically search for him after he had vanished without a trace? Or did travelling into the future effectively erase his past self, so to them it would be as if he never existed? Both scenarios were painful to him and he hated the thought that either of them could be happening.

‘Could have happened,’ he corrected himself. Where he was now all of that would have happened ninety-one years ago. And that was another thing: in this time where he was now everyone he knew and loved would no longer be alive.

This last realisation was so huge and gut-wrenching he spent a good deal of time staring down at his coffee cup, letting the enormity of his situation sink in. He couldn’t believe this wasn’t all some wild dream.

“I take it you’re no longer as lost as you were yesterday?”

Blaine jumped when a voice interrupted his thoughts, a voice that was somehow familiar. He looked up and, with a leap of his heart, found the handsome stranger who had helped him yesterday standing by his table wearing a friendly smile and holding a cup of coffee.

“Oh.” Blaine looked around wildly, trying to gather his composure and his suddenly scrambled thoughts. “No, no, today I’m good. I’ve- I was just rather overwhelmed yesterday.”

The man nodded in understanding. “New York can feel that way at times.” He hovered a little uncertainly by the table until Blaine’s brain finally caught up with the situation.

He stood up and indicated the empty chair across from his own. “Would you like to join me?”

A brief flicker of surprise crossed the man’s face before he smiled, looking pleased. “Thank you,” he said, setting his coffee down on the table and sitting down.

Taking his seat again, Blaine held his hand out to the man. “Sorry, I should have introduced myself earlier. I’m Blaine Anderson.”

The man placed his hand – the skin soft and smooth – in Blaine’s. “I’m Kurt, Kurt Hummel.”

Blaine smiled warmly at him, trying to ignore the speed with which his pulse raced at the other man’s touch. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Kurt.”

The softest of blushes tinged Kurt’s cheeks at these words and Blaine had to avert his eyes, taking a sip of his coffee to distract himself from the beauty of the rosy pink staining Kurt’s pale cheeks and from the fluttering feeling in his stomach.

“Likewise,” Kurt said in his melodic voice. He cleared his throat. “So, where are you from? I’m guessing you’re not local.”

Blaine looked up from his coffee, his mind racing to think of a suitable story to explain his behaviour yesterday. “I’m from Connecticut,” he invented wildly. “I’m here to pay a visit to an old friend of mine.”

Kurt was watching Blaine over the top of his coffee cup. “Did you manage to find your friend?”

Blaine hesitated. “No,” he replied slowly. “Business apparently made him move out of state.” Anticipating Kurt would question this further, he quickly changed the subject. “I hope I didn’t make you late for anything when I stopped you yesterday.”

Kurt blinked, seeming confused at the abrupt change of topic, but shrugged it off. “Oh, no,” he assured him. “I was on my way to work, but I always stop for coffee here first so you didn’t make me late.”

“Where do you work?” Blaine asked. He was finding himself becoming more and more intrigued by Kurt the longer he sat with him and he really wanted to learn more about the man: what he did in his free time; what made him laugh; the kind of coffee he was drinking. He couldn’t remember ever feeling this way about another person before, even when he’d first met Wes and they’d become fast friends he hadn’t felt this desire, this thirst, to get to know him. Blaine wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“At Dalton Designs, it’s a fashion label that has offices a few blocks away,” Kurt informed him with a smile. Blaine could hear the pride in his voice. “I’m one of their designers.”

Blaine stared at him, wondering if he’d heard right. “You’re a fashion designer?” he asked in surprise. He hadn’t heard another man express an interest in fashion before. The one time Blaine had pointed out the fine detailing on a waistcoat and matching bowtie and commented on how much he wished to have them, his father had made a rather nasty remark about how Blaine better watch what he was saying or people would think he was becoming too feminine.

The surprise in Blaine’s voice made Kurt frown. “Yes,” he said stiffly. “And I’ve heard all the jokes and slurs before so you needn’t bother with any of those.”

“Slurs?” Blaine repeated, feeling as though he was missing something. “No, I’ve just never met anyone who is a fashion designer before. It can’t be an easy profession to get into; you must be very talented.”

The frown on Kurt’s face smoothed out, but he was still a little stiff when he responded, “If you stay in New York long enough you’re bound to meet people in the fashion industry, it is a big city in fashion after all.”

The cool tone to his voice made a small spark of something close to panic flicker through Blaine. He rested his elbows on the table. “Kurt, I’m sorry if I offended you. I wasn’t implying anything or- or making a mockery of your profession. I really was surprised.” He stared beseechingly at Kurt, hoping he believed him. He hated that he may have unwittingly messed up, causing Kurt to dislike him after everything had been going so well.

A brief look of confusion flitted across Kurt’s face as he gazed at Blaine, but it disappeared before Blaine could wonder about it. “It’s fine,” Kurt assured him with a small wave of his hand. “You didn’t offend me, don’t worry. It was just-” He broke off, shaking his head. “It’s fine.”

His friendly smile and tone were back. Blaine relaxed.

“What about you?” Kurt asked, swallowing a mouthful of coffee. “What do you do for a living?” he added at Blaine’s questioning look.

Blaine drank some more coffee to give himself some thinking time. He decided to stick with the truth as much as he could, revealing as little detail as possible.

“I work alongside my father,” he explained. “He runs a small law firm.”

Kurt looked at him thoughtfully. “You look a little young to be a lawyer.”

“I’m still at school for that, I go to college not far from where I live,” he explained, hoping that Kurt wouldn’t question his schooling anymore – he didn’t know anything about colleges outside of New York City. “I work for my father part-time doing paperwork and the likes.”

Kurt smiled. “At least you won’t have to go job-hunting when you graduate.”

Blaine returned his smile weakly. “Yes, it’s useful that way.

Kurt noticed his lack of enthusiasm. “Do you not like working for your dad?”

“No, it’s not that,” Blaine said quickly, trying to smooth the discomfort from his expression. “I just don’t particularly enjoy law, it was never what I wanted to pursue.” He clamped his mouth shut and looked around nervously as soon as he realised what he’d said. He’d never admitted this to anyone but Wes before and here he was telling a complete stranger.

Setting his coffee down on the table, Kurt looked at Blaine in sympathy. “Pushy parents, huh? I know people who have been in the same boat as you. But you shouldn’t let your parents tell you what to do with your life; they shouldn’t force you to abandon your dreams.”

“I never told them about my dreams,” Blaine said in a small voice. “They asked me to do law and carry on the family business, so I did.”

“And now you’re unhappy,” Kurt pointed out.

Blaine exhaled and tugged at the corner of his bowtie. “It’s not that simple.”

Kurt watched Blaine for a moment. “I know we’ve only just met, but let me give you some advice: talk to your parents about this, you’re only setting yourself up for a life of regret and unhappiness if you stick with the life your parents want you to live instead of the one you want.” He scooped up the satchel sitting by his chair and began rummaging in it. 

“Do you have the time?” he asked as Blaine absorbed what he’d just said. “I can’t find my phone.”

Perplexed as to why Kurt would have a phone in his bag, Blaine pulled out his pocket watch. “It’s ten minutes to nine.”

“You have a pocket watch?” Kurt noted in surprise. “I’ve never seen someone with one before.”

Unsure what to say, Blaine simply smiled at him.

Kurt fastened up his satchel. “Sorry, but I’d better get going or I’ll be late for work.” He got to his feet, hooking the strap of his satchel over his shoulder. “It was nice talking to you.” He seemed reluctant to leave.

Blaine smiled warmly, feeling as though he were deflating. “You, too.”

Kurt turned to leave and paused. “Will you be back here tomorrow?”

Blaine hesitated. He wanted to say yes, wanted to know he could return to the café and see Kurt again, but he had no idea if he’d still be here tomorrow; he could be whisked back to his own time as suddenly as he arrived here.

“Maybe,” he replied, then seeing Kurt’s smile fade, added, “Hopefully.”

Kurt nodded at him. “Then I’ll hopefully see you tomorrow.” With one last smile at Blaine he left the coffee shop, leaving Blaine hoping that he could stay at least until he got to see Kurt again.

~ * ~

“-and handsome and charming and sweet,” Kurt gushed, throwing himself down on the couch. “He looks like one of those dapper young gentlemen in the black and white movies we watched on our last movie marathon.”

Rachel watched Kurt from her spot on the armchair with a raised eyebrow. She looked partly amused and partly annoyed, though Kurt couldn’t imagine why; she’d been in a good mood when he’d arrived home and while all he’d done since he’d stepped through the front door was gush about Blaine he figured he’d listened to Rachel go on about Finn often enough for him to have a turn.

“I just hope he comes tomorrow and he wasn’t letting me down gently.” He drummed his fingers on the arm of the couch and stared at the blank TV screen. “He’s a little odd, though,” he added musingly.

Out the corner of his eye he spotted Rachel sitting up straighter at this. “How so?” she wondered out loud.

Kurt shrugged. “He seemed reluctant and nervous whenever he talked about himself and he-” He thought about the way Blaine spoke, his manner, the way he dressed and held himself. He shrugged again. “Maybe he’s just shy.” He smiled as he remembered the adorable blush on Blaine’s cheeks when Kurt had approached his table.

Rachel frowned. “What about Adam?”

Kurt’s daydreaming about Blaine crashed to a halt at the sound of Rachel’s question. “Adam?” he repeated blankly. He blinked at her until his mind pulled itself fully out of the memory of Blaine’s smile. “We were never actually dating,” he explained. “We only went out once or twice and it wasn’t working. I was planning to tell him tonight.” He resented Rachel’s implication that he was fickle enough to forget about the guy he was seeing when he met someone new. He liked Adam, but there was nothing romantic between them; the couple of times they’d been out together felt like two friends hanging out. Blaine, on the other hand, he could see being different…

“You liked him well enough when I introduced you to him,” Rachel sniffed. “Are you really throwing away your chance of something with him for some guy you met at a coffee shop who’s probably only here on vacation?”

“He doesn’t live far from here,” Kurt protested. “Only in Connecticut. And he’s here visiting a friend, actually.”

“He’s probably straight,” Rachel pointed out.

Kurt scowled at her, suddenly feeling angry. “Why are you so determined for me not to see where it goes with this guy?”

Rachel sighed. “Because I don’t want you to get hurt or lose Adam – a guy who really likes you – for something that might not even happen. You barely know this Blaine guy, how do you know he’s not just leading you on?” When Kurt rolled his eyes in exasperation, she added, “And I thought you really liked Adam.”

Kurt closed his eyes. “I only told you that because I was lonely. I only went out with Adam because I was lonely and wanted to see if it could work. He’s a nice guy, but there’s absolutely nothing romantic between us.”

Rachel’s mouth made an ‘o’ shape.

Kurt opened his eyes again. “And I’ve been hurt many times before; I’m used to it.”

He got up and left, ignoring Rachel calling his name as he nudged his bedroom door closed behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

Blaine was at the coffee shop the next two mornings despite saying to Kurt he’d only ‘maybe’ be there. They got to know each other a lot during the thirty minutes Kurt could spend at the café before having to dash off for work. Blaine loved music and had been playing the piano for years. He also played polo, something Kurt never would have guessed about him, but which fit with his prep-school-boy manner. Kurt was also pretty positive that Blaine was gay, a fact he became more certain of the longer he spent with him, and his gaydar was rarely wrong.

The more they spoke the more Kurt noticed how strange Blaine really was: despite saying he loved music, he’d never heard of any of the songs or artists Kurt mentioned; he enjoyed reading, yet all of the books Kurt brought up – all popular bestsellers – were met with a blank stare and quizzical smile.

Something was definitely odd about Blaine; Kurt just couldn’t put his finger on what it was.

And then there was the way Blaine dressed. As someone with a great interest in fashion and who worked in the industry, Kurt couldn’t help but notice what people were wearing and judging their choice of outfit. He didn’t know if Blaine was going for a vintage style or if he just liked to dress old-fashioned and formal all the time, but his style of clothing was far from modern. He had also worn the same suit jacket and fedora hat every day since they’d first met.

Blaine was certainly intriguing, all right.

On their third morning of meeting in the coffee shop, Kurt sat down at their usual table and smiled at Blaine, feeling determined. Last night as he’d lain in bed with sleep remaining evasively out of reach he’d told himself to do what he’d wanted to since seeing Blaine for the second time at this very table in this café – he was going to ask him out for dinner.

His feelings for Blaine were growing each day and he knew he’d regret it if he never asked him out. He and Blaine were definitely on the path to becoming friends, but that wasn’t enough for him; he wanted more.

“How was your evening?” Blaine asked politely after they had greeted each other. He frowned at the tired circles beneath Kurt’s eyes. “Were you up late working again?”

Kurt smiled guiltily. “An idea came to me; I had to get it down on paper.” He took a sip of his coffee. “I’ll be fine once I’ve had some coffee.”

“All this lack of sleep can’t be healthy for you,” Blaine said, looking concerned.

“I’m fine,” Kurt assured him. “I’m used to it.” He swallowed another mouthful of coffee under Blaine’s worried gaze. “So, what are your plans for the weekend? You still hanging around here even though your friend has moved?” He tried not to let how much the answer to this question meant to him show through his expression.

Blaine lowered the hand he was reaching for his coffee with down to rest on the table. “I’ll be staying here,” he replied. A frown appeared on his face, disappearing again so quickly that Kurt wasn’t sure it had really been there. “I don’t have any plans, yet, though. I’m not sure what I’ll do.” He looked up, his expression musing, as though he had never given the weekend any thought yet.

Kurt licked his dry lips. “Would you like to have dinner with me tomorrow night?”

Blaine stared at him, looking surprised to be asked. As Kurt nervously picked at the knee of his pants he wondered at Blaine’s surprise – surely a guy like him had been asked out many times before? He was sweet, intelligent and funny, not to mention extremely handsome; Kurt found it hard to believe he’d never had a boyfriend before. Unless he read the signals wrong and Blaine wasn’t actually gay? He hadn’t confirmed it, after all. Or maybe the surprise was at Kurt asking him out?”

“I would love to,” Blaine replied earnestly, causing relief and nervous excitement to flood Kurt’s veins.

Kurt beamed at him. “Great! Um…” He looked around wildly. “Give me your phone so we can exchange numbers.”

Blaine looked bewildered. “My…phone?” he asked blankly. “I don’t have one.”

Now it was Kurt’s turn to look surprised. “You don’t have a phone? I thought everyone these days had one.” He gave his head a small shake. “I don’t know how you manage.” When Blaine’s expression turned apologetic, as though he was sorry for not owning a phone, Kurt quickly added, “That’s ok that you don’t have one, we’ll just have to decide now what time we’ll meet and you can tell me where you’re staying so I can come pick you up.”

Blaine relayed the address he was staying at – a hotel not too far away – to Kurt and they agreed that Kurt would pick him up there at seven the following night.

They spent the rest of their time together smiling widely as they talked about anything and everything that came to mind until Kurt had to leave for work; he left the café with the promise of seeing Blaine tomorrow and a feeling of elation at having successfully asked him out.

Kurt felt nervous when he entered the lobby of the hotel Blaine was staying at. His palms were clammy and his heart was racing in a way it never had done on his dates with Adam. Blaine made him feel the kind of excited nervous that made his stomach twist itself into knots, his legs tremble to the point where he worried he was swaying as he walked, and his heart feel like it was beating so hard and fast that it was surely audible to those around him.

The lobby was brightly lit, the lights reflecting off the polished floors so that its surface appeared glassy. The air was filled with the soft scent of fresh flowers and the gentle sounds of classical music playing through speakers somewhere. Kurt tugged self-consciously at his shirt as he crossed the lobby, looking around for Blaine, spotting him almost immediately sitting on a couch over in a corner.

He was dressed similarly to how he had been every time Kurt had seen him – a neat suit jacket over a button-down shirt, polished dress shoes, and a patterned bowtie – and his hair was, as usual, slicked down with far too much product. He didn’t see Kurt straight away, he was frowning down at one of the magazines stacked on the low coffee table by the couch, and Kurt took the opportunity to study him as he slowly approached the couches. Sitting in this hotel with the vintage décor and original flooring and wallpaper, Blaine looked straight out of a Cary Grant movie and Kurt half expected a classically beautiful young woman in a cocktail dress to approach him and take his arm. Kurt shook his head slightly to clear the image.

“Hi, Blaine,” he greeted when he reached the couches.

Blaine’s head shot up and his face lit up in a smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Good evening, Kurt.” His eyes slowly took in the length of him, Kurt fighting the urge to fidget under his gaze which felt loaded with a weight that made him shiver. “You’re looking very handsome,” he complemented, the usual smoothness of his voice breaking when it caught on the last word.

Kurt tried his hardest not to blush like a teenage. “Th- Thank you. So are you.” A short pause followed this during which they both stared at each other. Kurt cleared his throat. 

“Ready to go?”

Blaine nodded, getting to his feet and joining Kurt at the other side of the coffee table. Kurt swallowed thickly as he watched him straighten his jacket and smile at him.

“Let’s go then.”

Internally cursing at how lame he sounded, Kurt led the way out of the hotel and out into the street where he quickly caught a cab that had just dropped off an older couple at the hotel. Things became easier during the cab ride to the restaurant, the comfortable atmosphere that usually surrounded them at the coffee shop returning, and Kurt found his nerves dying down as he told Blaine about Rachel’s latest attempts at cooking a vegan meal.

“-and then she wanted me to try the dessert she’d made, but I had to pretend I’d had an extremely filling breakfast and couldn’t eat anymore to avoid eating something that looked like a dog had thrown it up.” Kurt said with a shudder as he climbed out of the cab after Blaine, who was holding the door for him. He turned away to pay and thank the driver, pushing Blaine’s wallet away as he did so.

“So, what you’re saying is you’re starving.” Blaine said once the cab had driven away and Kurt had turned back to face him.

Kurt smiled at him. “Exactly.” He glanced at the restaurant behind Blaine. “I’ve been here a few times with people from work and the food is amazing – they can do things with chicken that you wouldn’t believe.”

The meal went better than Kurt could have hoped for and the slight awkwardness from earlier never returned. It was just like one of their mornings in the coffee shop, but Kurt didn’t have to rush off after only half an hour and the setting was more intimate. He could easily see himself falling for Blaine, if he wasn’t already.

Desperate for the evening not to end, Kurt dragged the meal out for as long as possible, but eventually they were forced to leave, and it was with great reluctance and a small sigh that Kurt turned to say goodnight to Blaine outside the restaurant.

“Can I take you home?” Blaine asked before Kurt could open his mouth to begin the dreaded goodbye.

He blinked in surprise, his stomach giving a pleasant lurch of delight. “Yeah, sure,” he breathed. He gestured down the street behind him. “It’s not that far from here, we can walk it.”

They walked in silence for a moment, Kurt savouring the feeling of the cool night air on his face and the sight of Blaine walking along next to him. He kept peaking at the other man out the corner of his eye, admiring the way he looked under the streetlights, still unable to quite believe that someone as all around beautiful as Blaine was interested in him.

“I’m still not used to how brightly this city is lit up at night,” Blaine said, his head tipped back slightly as he gazed up at the sky, the stars all washed out by the lights.

Kurt glanced upwards briefly. “Yeah, when I moved here from Ohio after high school I missed being able to see the stars – I still do sometimes. I love living in a big city, but sometimes I miss living somewhere less crowded and busy.”

Blaine nodded thoughtfully, a small frown line appearing between his eyebrows. He remained silent as they crossed the road and headed down a new street, the lights from some of the buildings spilling out onto the street.

“Do you go back to Ohio often?” Blaine asked. “Your family still live there, don’t they?”

Kurt nodded. “I go back as often as I can. I miss my family when I’m here, especially my dad, we’re really close.”

Blaine bit his lip and nodded, but before Kurt could say anything they reached his building and he came to a stop.

“Well, here we are,” he announced with a small smile. Something had changed between them, though he couldn’t say what.

Blaine took in the building behind him. “Do you want me to walk you to your door?”

“I-” Kurt broke off, feeling surprised by Blaine’s offer. “That would be nice, yes.”

Blaine looked around curiously as Kurt led the way to the elevators and they journeyed up to the fourth floor. When they reached Kurt’s door, he turned to face Blaine, still trying to think what felt different. His goodnight died in his throat when he saw the look in Blaine’s eyes.

Blaine was fidgeting with the bottom of his jacket. “Kurt, I have something to tell you,” he began and Kurt felt his heart start to beat faster in worry, not liking the tone of Blaine’s voice at all. He should have known this was all too good to be true. “I probably should have told you earlier,” Blaine said, avoiding Kurt’s eyes “before we went out tonight, but I just-” He inhaled deeply, lifting his eyes to meet Kurt’s. “Kurt, I’m not-”

“Kurt, hi!”

Blaine and Kurt jumped as a female voice interrupted them and Rachel appeared, her heels thumping softly on the carpeted floors. She beamed at the pair of them, unaware what she had just interrupted.

“I didn’t know you had a date tonight, Kurt,” she said, peering keenly at Blaine, her eyes bright with curiosity. Kurt had never been less pleased to see her. He glared at her as she introduced herself to Blaine.

“I told you this morning I was going out with Blaine,” he reminded her through gritted teeth.

She ignored him, smiling brightly as she shook Blaine’s hand, seemingly oblivious to the painful and strained look in Blaine’s eyes.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Rachel, but I’d best be leaving,” Blaine said politely, his eyes meeting Kurt’s briefly over her head.

Kurt felt the sudden urge to grab Rachel and shove her into the apartment so he could be alone with Blaine again. He was sure what Blaine had been about to say was important and he couldn’t believe Rachel’s timing.

“Blaine-” he began.

Blaine smiled at him, stepping around Rachel. “I had a really nice time tonight, Kurt, thank you.”

Kurt glanced desperately at Rachel, silently begging her to leave instead of continuing to stand there. “I- Me, too.”

Blaine’s eyes flickered briefly to Rachel, who was now studiously rummaging through her purse. “I’ll see you again soon, ok?”

Kurt nodded, swallowing down his disappointment.

Blaine raised a hand, hesitated, and then traced it lightly down the length of Kurt’s arm, his fingers lingering momentarily by Kurt’s hand. “Goodnight,” he said softly.

Kurt smiled at him. “Goodnight, Blaine.”

Blaine nodded at Rachel, who was peaking up at him through her bangs, before heading back towards the elevator, leaving Kurt tingling where Blaine had touched him and furious at Rachel.

“What did you do that for?” Kurt hissed as Rachel unlocked their apartment door.

She shot him a puzzled look over her shoulder as he followed her inside. “What?” she asked innocently. She tossed her purse down on the couch, her expression becoming apologetic. “Oh, sorry, did I interrupt you guys?”

Kurt sighed heavily. “Yes, you did, but not in the way you’re thinking.” He flung himself down in the armchair and glared at the floor. “Blaine was about to tell me something important before you butted in.”

“Sorry…” Rachel began, sounding genuinely apologetic.

“I think it had something to do with how he’s a little strange.” Kurt spoke over the top of Rachel’s apology, not listening to a word she was saying.

Rachel’s voice suddenly cut through his thoughts. “What?”

He spared her a brief glance. “What Blaine was going to tell me,” he clarified absently.

Shaking her head, Rachel smiled at him in confusion. “No – what do you mean Blaine’s a little strange? I didn’t think he looked strange at all; he seemed a perfectly sweet guy.”

Kurt shook his head at the floor. “You don’t understand, you only just met him. It’s- It’s like he doesn’t fit in here, like he’s from another century or something.”

Rachel let out a small laugh. “What are you talking about?”

Kurt raised his head to look at her, his eyes unfocused, lost in his memories of Blaine. “He’s not like anyone I’ve ever met before: he dresses like he’s just stepped off the set of an old movie, he talks like he’s on board the Titanic. He’s like an old-fashioned gentleman – he even has a pocket watch!” He finally focussed on his roommate, frantically willing her to understand and offer up some reasonable explanation to all of this. “Who carries a pocket watch these days?”

Rachel sat down on the edge of the couch, gazing at him seriously, as if she were soothing a temperamental child. “Kurt, just because he has a pocket watch and acts like a gentleman doesn’t mean he’s somehow stepped out of the pages of ‘Gone With The Wind’. Maybe he inherited the watch from his grandfather; maybe he went to one of those expensive prep schools where they teach you etiquette and to open car doors for people.”

Kurt suddenly remembered Blaine mentioning he played polo – that practically screamed prep school.

“Maybe you’re right,” he told Rachel. He grinned sheepishly. “I’m being ridiculous.”

Rachel nodded impressively. “You are.” Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she launched into a description of her dinner with some Broadway producers. Kurt nodded along as she spoke, no longer paying attention to anything she was saying. Maybe he was being ridiculous and letting his overactive imagination run away with him, but he couldn’t help the nagging doubts planted in the back of his mind insisting that there was more to Blaine than simply a posh, expensive school.

~ * ~

Blaine got the feeling Kurt was becoming suspicious. He didn’t blame him, he knew he didn’t fit in to this time all that well. He was terrified of telling him, scared of how Kurt would react when he learned the truth about him; Kurt could easily be scared of him, report him to the police or a mental hospital, or worse, refuse to ever have any contact with him again. Though he may not know it, Kurt was the only thing keeping him sane; he was the only reason Blaine wasn’t locked up in his hotel room, scared and panicked, praying that he could somehow be sent back to his own time.

He had almost confessed the truth to Kurt at the end of their date on Saturday night, but when Rachel arrived his confidence was shattered and he was once again too scared to tell him. But he knew this would all have to change, and soon; Kurt couldn’t stay in the dark forever.

He and Kurt went out on another date after Kurt finished work on Tuesday night. They went to see a movie – the sounds and colours absolutely fascinated Blaine – and got dinner afterwards. Blaine felt Kurt’s gaze on him numerous times throughout the evening, curious and puzzled, and Blaine felt his guilt mounting as the evening went on. But he couldn’t just tell him, couldn’t bear to see Kurt’s face when he learned the truth – would he be scared? Angry?

“I get the feeling there’s something you’re not telling me,” Kurt said as he and Blaine sat on a bench near a pool of lamplight in Central Park. They had left the restaurant almost twenty minutes ago and Kurt had been unusually quiet ever since.

Blaine’s heart clenched and his hands began to shake. He opened his mouth to just do it, to tell Kurt the whole story, but cowardice got the better of him.

“There’s nothing, Kurt.” He let out a short, nervous laugh. “I’m swell.”

Kurt stared at him for a moment, not looking at all convinced, and with a hint of disappointed sadness on his face. Blaine’s guilt soared to the point where he felt almost sick with it. He hated lying to Kurt, couldn’t stand the hurt look on his face, but he couldn’t tell him, he couldn’t…

Kurt seemed to consider him for a moment, before looking away across the park and saying: “You know, if any other person had stopped me on the street looking wild and panicked as they asked what year it was I would have walked away. I certainly wouldn’t have approached them in a coffee shop the next day, but for some reason you were different. I knew you were genuine and someone I could trust, someone I could see being part of my life.”

Blaine shifted his weight uncomfortably, his guilt chewing away at his insides. “Kurt…”

Ignoring him, Kurt nibbled on the inside of his bottom lip, still staring at the trees opposite them. “I’m starting to feel differently about you now. Sometimes I’m not so sure you’re someone I shouldn’t be walking away from.”

“Kurt,” Blaine said pleadingly, wanting to touch the other man’s arm to get him to look at him but scared of Kurt shaking his touch off.

“We’ve spent the days since we met getting to know each other, but I’m not sure I really know you at all,” Kurt continued, still not showing any sign he’d heard Blaine’s pleas. 

Blaine’s breath was coming in shallow pants and his pulse thumped in his ears when Kurt finally turned to face him again, his expression sombre with a hint of frustration. 

“There’s something about you that you’re not telling me – something big. I’m not saying you should tell me everything – we haven’t known each other for very long, after all – but this- this feels like- like-” Kurt closed his eyes, shaking his head as though he was struggling to wrap his mind around the whole thing. “You act like you’re from the fifties or something and-”

“Twenties,” Blaine corrected quietly.

“I- What?” Kurt stared at him, his eyes wide and mouth hanging open slightly.

Swallowing thickly, Blaine gripped the edge of the bench seat with his hands, the knuckles standing out prominent and white against his tan-coloured skin. He forced himself to look Kurt directly in the eye despite the urge to duck his head and speak to his knees. “I’m from nineteen-twenty-three,” he admitted, his voice only wavering slightly in his fear.

“I- I somehow travelled into the future last Monday. It had just happened when I stopped you on the street, that’s why I asked those questions and why I was acting so peculiar.”

He waited anxiously for Kurt to respond, relief at finally having told him the truth battling with rising fear inside of him, leaving him nauseated and shaky. He had no idea what he would do if Kurt took the news badly, all he could do was will everything to work out alright as his palms sweated, his hands shook and his heart raced.

Kurt licked his lips. “You- You travelled ninety-one years into the future?” he asked weakly, looking pale and shocked, as if he’d just seen a ghost.

Blaine nodded, his worry not decreasing any despite Kurt’s not running off or thinking him insane like he’d feared. “Yes, but I’m not exactly sure how. Someone from this time must have…” He trailed off upon seeing Kurt’s stare. “What?” he asked, his worry shooting up another notch. “Time travel is possible now, is- isn’t it?”

Concern was slowly replacing the shock in Kurt’s expression. “Not unless you’re Doctor Who,” he said apologetically. When Blaine’s forehead scrunched into a frown and his mouth began to shape a question, he shook his head. “Blaine, time travel is still impossible.”

Kurt’s words sunk in slowly, and it took Blaine a good few seconds before he could begin to comprehend what he’d just been told. He blinked at Kurt, dawning realisation coalescing slowly in his mind.

“But then how…? Does this mean I’ll never be able to go home?” Blaine asked, his words sounding confused, as if the idea of this had been incomprehensible until now.

Something flashed across Kurt’s face at this, but he ducked his head before Blaine got the chance to see properly. “I don’t think so,” Kurt said gently, avoiding Blaine’s eyes. “Then again, you got here somehow, so maybe…” He trailed off, shrugging.

Blaine said nothing to this, lifting his gaze to stare across the park, seeing nothing. He might not be able to go home to his own time; he might be stuck here in this strange, modern world for good. He would never see his family again, would never spend time with Wes, or play polo with the guys… A desperate ‘why me?’ thought flashed through him as the extent of the situation he had gotten himself into began to settle in his mind like falling snow. He was in too much shock to start panicking, was still in denial about it all, a small part of him still determinedly holding on to the hope of returning home. He exhaled shakily and looked back at Kurt to find him watching with apologetic eyes and a small, sympathetic smile.

“I’m really sorry, Blaine,” he said softly.

Nodding stiffly, Blaine sent him a tight smile, still reeling too much to respond in any other way.

Kurt hesitated a moment, shooting Blaine a nervous look, before asking, “You’re still staying in that hotel, right?”

A little confused by the sudden change in topic, Blaine nodded.

Kurt licked his lips again. “I- I was thinking, seeing as you don’t know how long you are going to be here and you don’t have anywhere else to stay you could maybe have the spare room in my apartment,” he offered tentatively. “If you want,” he added when Blaine did nothing but stare blankly at him. “I mean, it must be expensive paying for the hotel, and we’re friends, right? Friends help each other out like this.”

"We’re friends, yes,” Blaine agreed slowly. He felt like he needed to lie down; tonight had been too much. First the realisation he may be stuck in the future and now Kurt was asking him to move in with him, it was a wonder he didn’t have a headache.

Kurt was watching him with a cautious eagerness. “So, you’ll move in?” Straightening his face, he checked himself and added more calmly, “If it makes you uncomfortable then you don’t have to; I know we haven’t known each other for long.”

Blaine didn’t have a problem with that at all, his hesitation was purely from shock, disbelief at the fact Kurt was actually offering this, and surprise at how much he wanted to accept.

“Yes,” he responded quickly. When Kurt’s blue eyes lit up he smiled. “I’ll take you up on that, if you don’t mind.”

Dimples appeared on Kurt’s cheeks as he smiled. “I don’t mind at all.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Swanky,” Blaine said, looking around the large, open living area of Kurt’s apartment. He hesitated by the horseshoe of couches around the coffee table, clutching the small bag of his belongings he’d packed at the hotel. 

Biting back a laugh at Blaine’s choice of words, Kurt shut the front door and followed him inside. “It’s nothing special,” he countered, looking around, “but it’s alright for two young graduates in New York.” He watched as Blaine examined Rachel’s stacks of sheet music with curiosity. “Did you want the grand tour now or do you just want to go to your room?”

Blaine looked up, meeting Kurt’s eyes briefly before his gaze skittered away like a nervous animal’s. “I’ll have the tour now, please.”

Smiling reassuringly, Kurt nodded. Although he now understood Blaine’s use of formal language he wondered if he’d ever get used to it or if he’d always find it slightly jarring. With a lot of people these days using slang or communicating through text-speak, especially in bustling cities like New York, it was odd to hear the style of language Blaine used. These days Kurt only heard similar language spoken somewhat stiffly at parties or events he went to with his work, but it was refreshing hearing it whenever he was with Blaine.

“Leave your stuff here for now,” he said, indicating the bag Blaine was still clutching. “And I’ll show you around.”

When Blaine had sat his bag down, Kurt led the way through the apartment, showing Blaine the spotless kitchen where he took in all the appliances with wide eyes; the main and guest bathrooms; the tiny box room Kurt liked to call his work room where he’d crammed his desk, sewing machine, and fabric; his own bedroom, where they both became abruptly awkward and bashful, as though one of them had stripped themselves of their clothes; they skipped over Rachel’s room which Kurt knew she would not appreciate being shown off while she wasn’t there; and finally reached the room that was now Blaine’s.

Kurt clicked on the light, illuminating the modestly-sized room with its large double bed, dresser stuffed with some old clothes of his that he’d been meaning to sort through for months, and window overlooking the neighbouring building. There was a moment of silence as Blaine took in his new room and Kurt held his breath, hoping he actually liked it and wasn’t about to be politely disappointed. 

“Sorry you haven’t got the best view,” Kurt said apologetically when he couldn’t stand the silence any longer. “It’s the reason we use this as a guest room; neither of us really wanted anyone staring straight into our rooms, though as long as you close the curtains at night it isn’t a problem.”

Blaine took a step further into the room and shook his head. “It’s perfect, Kurt, thank you.” He stopped surveying the room to look at Kurt. “You didn’t have to do this; I really appreciate it.”

A gentle heat burned under the skin of Kurt’s cheeks. “You’re welcome.”

Swallowing, he looked away from Blaine. “I’ll change the sheets on the bed for you and move my stuff out of the dresser.” He walked around Blaine to reach the wooden dresser, tugging open the top drawer and pulling out the clothes he had piled in there. He heard Blaine shuffle his feet behind him. 

“I’ll go get my bag,” he announced. 

“Ok.” Kurt placed the final sweater on top of the pile beside him and scooped it up, turning to see Blaine heading down the corridor towards the living room. He followed him along the hall, dumping his old clothes in his room and grabbing some fresh sheets from the airing cupboard. As he changed the sheets he thought back to the sudden change in mood when he’d shown Blaine his room, how vulnerable and shy he’d felt. He supposed it was due to Blaine seeing somewhere that showed so much of his personality and what kind of person he was. Though he’d told Blaine a lot of his passions and likes it was different seeing someone’s bedroom, the place where all their personal affairs and guilty pleasures were laid bare. And there was something exposing about showing something that was so personal to you and was the place where you were at your most vulnerable – the place where you slept. 

The soft padding of feet on wooden floors announced Blaine’s return and Kurt pushed his thoughts and feelings firmly aside, straightening the bed covers as Blaine entered the room. Kurt brushed off the words of gratitude that immediately spilled from Blaine’s mouth upon seeing the freshly made bed. 

“It’s ok, Blaine, really,” he insisted. “It’s not like this room was being used.”

Lips pressed together in a thin line, Blaine nodded, flags of rosy pink appearing on his cheeks as he set his bag down gently on the floor. He was so endearingly shy; Kurt had to fight back a smile.

“I’m guessing you probably want to take a shower,” Kurt said, taking a step towards the door. “So, I’ll leave you to it. I’ll be through in the living room if you need anything.”

He shot Blaine a quick smile before leaving the room, striding briskly down the hall in the vain hope that walking quickly would stop his brain from attempting to conjure up an image of Blaine in his shower.

It didn’t work.

Groaning, he pushed aside Rachel’s neat stacks of sheet music on the coffee table and tugged his sketchbook out from underneath. Pencil in hand, he flopped down on the couch and frowned down at the detailing he had sketched the other night. He often did some of his best work late at night when his brain was too tired to overthink things and creativity and ideas simply flowed from his head on to the paper, but everyone had their limits and looking at these sketches he could see when he had begun to get too tired. Shakily drawn lines outlined smudged patterns and the lace trimming he’d drawn for one dress was something that would never work. 

He bent to tidy up one of his designs, contently losing himself in the smooth strokes and whispering sounds of pencil on paper.

If he strained his ears a little he could hear the water running in the guest bathroom…

Cursing his sudden incapability to focus, he leant closer to the paper and forced himself to work on the tiny details on a shirt.

A soft squeaking sound of what he recognised as bare feet sliding on the wooden floor pulled Kurt out of the bubble of concentration he’d finally managed to get himself in. He looked up from his sketches to smile at a showered Blaine, and blinked in surprise. 

Blaine was standing uncertainly near the hallway leading through to the bedrooms, his hair damp and curly and his skin flushed from the shower, dressed in his outfit from earlier, suit jacket and all. As it was so late Kurt had expected Blaine to be dressed for bed. Surely Blaine wasn’t embarrassed about Kurt seeing him in his sleep clothes?

“Aren’t you getting ready for bed?” Kurt asked.

For some reason, the question made Blaine blush and duck his head. “I um- I didn’t know what time you went to bed, and didn’t want to seem rude and go before you.”

Kurt frowned in confusion. “You don’t have to stay up just because I’m still awake,” he said. “And even if you’re not going to bed now you can still get changed; it would be more comfortable than wearing that.”

Blaine continued to stare at the floor, his cheeks a dark red, his teeth peeking out to nibble at his bottom lip. “I can’t exactly get changed unless I’m going straight to bed,” he told the floor in a voice barely louder than a whisper. 

“Why not?” Kurt asked, baffled by Blaine’s behaviour.

“I-” Blaine’s blush deepened and he squirmed his right foot against the floor, his shoulders hunched over slightly and his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his pants. 

“Because I, um-” He withdrew one of his hands and rubbed at the back of his neck. Kurt waited patiently for him to answer, puzzling over what had gotten Blaine so embarrassed.

“I sleep in my underwear,” Blaine confessed. He determinedly avoided looking at Kurt.

Momentarily thrown by the confession, which hadn’t been what he was expecting at all, Kurt could only stare, and Blaine, jittery and bashful, took the silence as being judgemental.

“I don’t usually sleep in my underwear,” he explained quickly. “I just have a severe lack of clothes at the moment. Because I don’t know when I could end up back in my own time I only bought that which was essential, like some shirts and underwear.” He snuck a peak at Kurt from under his lashes; darted his gaze away again. “Plus the stores here are rather overwhelming.”

Surprise fading, Kurt sat forward and placed his sketchbook and pencil down on the coffee table. “That’s nothing to be embarrassed about, plenty of people sleep in their underwear, and less,” he soothed. Getting to his feet, he smiled as Blaine glanced at him again, the blush beginning to fade from his cheeks. “You should have told me you were short of clothes, I can lend you some.”

Blaine’s head snapped up. “No, you don’t have to-”

“But I want to,” Kurt cut him off smoothly. “Besides, I have a pile of old clothes I was going to donate to charity – you can borrow some of them until you buy your own.”

He strode past Blaine and headed for his bedroom to look through the clothes he’d moved out of the dresser earlier. He searched through the pile he’d dumped on the floor of his closet, grabbed an old pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt with a small hole in the sleeve, carrying them through to Blaine. 

“Here,” he said, pressing the articles into Blaine’s hands. “They’ll be a little big on you, but…” He shrugged. “Go put them on.”

Blaine’s eyes were huge and earnest when they met Kurt’s. “Thank you. I’m going to find a way to repay you for all your generosity.”

He shuffled off to change and Kurt shook his head fondly at his retreating back. He’d never met someone so sincerely grateful. He knew part of it was Blaine’s situation, but the guy had the sort of manners and politeness Kurt had never seen before.

He leant against the back of the couch, waiting for Blaine’s return. The thought of seeing Blaine in his clothes making his heart do strange things inside his chest. He heard the tell-tale pad of approaching feet and then Blaine came into view and the air left Kurt’s lungs in a soft gasp.

Like he knew they would be, the clothes didn’t fit Blaine at all: the pants were too big, the fabric pooling at his feet, and the shirt fit him all wrong, stretched slightly across the chest, but too long in the body. It made Blaine look younger, adorably so, especially with his rumpled, damp curls. But Blaine somehow managed to also look, well…hot. Until now, Kurt had never seen him in anything other than a suit jacket and dress pants and now he was wearing a lot less clothes, showing features which were indiscernible beneath button-down shirts and tailored jackets. Kurt let his gaze wander over Blaine’s toned arms, the stretch of the t-shirt across his chest, and the way the thin cotton hugged Blaine’s small waist. 

It was only when Blaine shifted uncomfortably that Kurt stopped staring. He blushed, realising he hadn’t exactly been discrete and had been openly gaping at Blaine. 

He cleared his throat. “The clothes fit then?” he said lamely, desperately looking anywhere but Blaine’s body. 

Blaine glanced down at himself, plucking the hem of his t-shirt with his fingers. “Uh, yeah, thank you.”

“Do you want something to drink before going to bed or…?” Kurt took half a step towards the kitchen. “I make pretty good hot chocolate.”

“I’d like that,” Blaine replied quietly with one of his small, shy smiles. He scratched at his wrist, drawing Kurt’s gaze irrepressibly downwards. The sight of the soft curve of Blaine’s belly made his pulse jump. He turned his back on Blaine and strode into the kitchen. 

He could feel Blaine’s eyes on him as he made their drinks and it was a struggle for him not to look round when he heard Blaine take a seat at the table. He became hyperaware of every movement he made and the way he was standing as he waited for the milk to heat. It was so typical of him to be attracted to someone he could never have. First there was Finn – even if that crush was fleeting and misguided – then the older guy at college he had pined after until his first boyfriend came along, and now it was Blaine. Blaine who was in a far too delicate situation to be in a relationship. Blaine who didn’t even belong in this time and could disappear back into the past at any moment.

Kurt poured the hot chocolate into the mugs and carried them to the table, setting one down in front of Blaine, who flashed him an appreciative smile in response. 

There was no way Kurt would be able to stamp down his attraction to Blaine any time soon, not when Blaine had a smile like that.

“This is delicious, Kurt,” Blaine complemented, sipping at his drink.

Swallowing a mouthful of the warm, sweet liquid, Kurt smiled absently, his mind now back on the conversation he and Blaine had had at the park earlier. He set his mug down on the table.

“I want to help you find a way to return home,” he announced abruptly, startling Blaine from taking another sip from his mug. “You said you wanted to go back if you could and I hate the thought of you losing your family and friends – basically your whole life. I want to help you go back.” He ignored the twinge of pain he felt, speaking sincerely and holding Blaine’s gaze as Blaine stared at him with wide eyes and parted lips. As much as he wanted to have Blaine in his life, if not romantically then at least as a friend, he didn’t want him to remain trapped here away from his loved ones. Blaine had lost dreams and plans and hopes when he’d been catapulted ninety-one years into the future and Kurt would do everything he could to help Blaine get those back.

Blaine’s mouth shaped soundless words for a moment until he finally found his voice. “Y- You want to help me find a way back?”

Kurt nodded. “If you want me to.”

Blaine lowered his gaze to his mug and slowly set it down on the table. With his eyes hidden and his face smooth, Kurt couldn’t tell what he was thinking as he stared down into the depths of his hot chocolate.

“I want to go home, if I can,” Blaine said quietly. “If you can help me do that I would be forever grateful.” He raised his eyes to meet Kurt’s, his appreciation evident in his expression along with something else that disappeared from his eyes too quickly for Kurt to identify. “Besides,” Blaine added, sounding more upbeat, “I know nothing about the way the world is now and I’ll need to learn about modern ways if I’m going to live here until I can go back.”

Nodding again, Kurt smiled, his mood lifting at the reminder he would at least get to spend some time with Blaine. And maybe getting to know Blaine more and forming a close relationship with him would make it hurt more when he left, but he knew the short time he would have Blaine in his life would be worth it. 

“Of course I’ll help you, in any way I can,” Kurt said. He tapped a finger against the side of his mug. “So do you have any leads? Have you been trying to find out how to get home?”

Blaine shook his head, a rather sheepish expression appearing on his face. “Um, no. I was under the impression I’d been summoned to this time for a reason.”

“Oh.” Kurt remembered how Blaine had thought time travel was possible and realised this made sense. When the idea of time travel was so outlandish and implausible, trying to make sense of it and discover how to reverse it wasn’t something one would do when they believed someone had caused it for a reason that would eventually become apparent. If Kurt was in Blaine’s shoes he would have done the same.

“Ok, so we don’t have anything yet,” Kurt continued. He looked thoughtfully across the table at Blaine. “I think the best place to start would be to learn how you got here – how can you go back if you don’t know how you arrived?”

Blaine nodded, looking a little daunted by the task ahead of them. Kurt, however, was feeling more optimistic. With a fresh plan mapped out in his head and a list of ideas of how to achieve their goal, he had no reason to believe this was impossible.

“Great!” he beamed, feeling eager to get started with this despite the intended outcome being so bittersweet. “I have tomorrow off work, so we can start then.”

Blaine smiled and stifled a yawn, hiding his mouth behind his hand. Catching Kurt’s eye, he admitted he hadn’t been sleeping well lately as the smallest of sounds had him jerking awake thinking that maybe now he would learn why he was in the future.

They went to bed after that, Blaine saying goodnight with red cheeks and a shy smile before continuing tentatively down the hall to his bedroom, the legs of his pants trailing on the floor. Kurt didn’t fall asleep immediately, tossing and turning for the best part of an hour, the knowledge that Blaine was lying in a bed just down the hall keeping sleep at bay. When he did eventually fall asleep he dreamt of shifting shapes and colours, coalescing and moving so quickly he couldn’t make out anything beyond a swirl of colour and smudged lines, while Blaine’s presence hung around him in a tangible cloud.

He didn’t remember the dream at all when he woke up; all that remained with him was the fuzzy, vague sense of Blaine being featured in his unconscious thoughts. He just hoped it hadn’t been inappropriate; the last thing he wanted was to start having sexual dreams about his new roommate. 

And speaking of roommates…

“Shit,” Kurt muttered, flinging the towel he’d been using to dry his face over the rail. He’d meant to call Rachel last night and let her know Blaine was moving in and check she was ok with it, but he’d completely forgotten.

Scurrying out the bathroom he snatched up his phone from beside the bed and stared helplessly down at the screen. It was no use calling her now, she would be arriving home after a night spent with some cast mates soon, and she would only start demanding to know why she hadn’t been told sooner. Best to have that conversation face-to-face. 

With a groan of dread he set his phone back down and padded through to the kitchen, rubbing absently at his left eye and trying to think of the best way to explain Blaine’s situation to Rachel. Lost in thought, he didn’t hear Blaine enter the kitchen and he gave a small jump when the other man cleared his throat quietly.

“Oh, morning!” Kurt greeted him, ignoring the way his heart leaped and stomach flipped at the sight of just-out-of-bed Blaine, who was all sleepy eyes, pliant limbs, and rumpled curls. 

Noticing Kurt’s eyes lingering on his hair, Blaine ran a hand slowly over his messy dark curls. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?” He let his hand drop from his hair, not realising he’d made a chunk of it stick up at the front. 

Sticking his head in the fridge to hide his smile, Kurt began pulling out some fruit for breakfast. “Good, thanks. What about you? Was the bed alright?”

“It was a lot more comfortable than the hotel bed.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Kurt set the fruit on the counter. “What do you want for breakfast? I was going to have fruit and granola, but there’s toast, eggs, pancakes…”

“Fruit and granola will be perfect, thank you,” Blaine assured him.

Kurt nodded, suddenly feeling flustered. “I’ll make some coffee as well.”

Breakfast with Blaine was nothing like breakfast with Rachel. Kurt’s pulse didn’t jump when Rachel’s hip bumped against his whilst she reached for so more fruit to cut up, Rachel didn’t keep catching his eye and giving him a shy smile, and she didn’t make Kurt feel so unsettled yet so complete as he chatted with her about mundane things over their food and coffee. He didn’t understand how Blaine could keep drawing his gaze or how he could be the new presence he wasn’t yet used to being in his home, while at the same time feeling like he had always been missing from his home life and he hadn’t known it until know. Breakfast with Rachel also never made him feel this happy or at peace; he wasn’t running through his plan for the day in his head or gulping his coffee so he could get back to his designs, instead he felt… not quite lazy, more like he was just going to let the events of the day unfold rather than trying to control them. 

All in all, breakfast went well – even with the lingering feeling of ‘first date’ in the air – until, just as Kurt was about to bring up the topic of Blaine’s time travel, the front door slammed.

Kurt and Blaine both froze; Blaine with his coffee mug halfway between the table and his lips.

“Kurt?”

Rachel was home. Rachel was home and she had no idea Blaine was here. Kurt jumped to his feet to explain it all to her before she saw Blaine, but-

Rachel strode into view, beaming all over her face and practically quivering with excitement. “Kurt, you won’t believe who Veronica knows! Yo-” Catching sight of Blaine sitting rigid at the table, she cut herself off, her eyes widening marginally and her smile momentarily dissolving into a look of surprise, before she got a knowing gleam in her eye Kurt didn’t like one bit.

She plastered a big smile on her face. “Hi, Blaine, I didn’t realise you’d be here!”

“Morning, Rachel,” Blaine greeted her, still polite in spite of his obvious nerves.

Rachel turned her smile on Kurt. “Kurt, can I talk to you for a second?”

Without waiting for an answer, she seized Kurt’s wrist and tugged him over by the front door, out of sight and earshot of Blaine.

“You slept with Blaine?” she hissed, looking both strangely delighted and shocked. “I didn’t think you were one to jump into bed with a guy so quickly.” There was a note of disapproval in her voice.

Kurt’s mouth fell open – he should have known Rachel would jump to this conclusion. “What? No!” he protested hastily. “No, he just stayed in the guest room last night because I thought he’d prefer it to a hotel room.”

Rachel cocked an eyebrow sceptically at him. Kurt gave his head a small shake, knowing he wasn’t explaining it properly. “Blaine’s going to be in the city for a little longer while he…takes care of some business and he’s got nowhere else he can stay but a hotel, so since we’ve got that spare room sitting doing nothing I offered it to him,” he explained. When Rachel stared speechlessly at him, he added, “Because hotels are expensive and the bedding doesn’t have the thread count to justify their prices, so I thought I’d give a friend somewhere better and more comfortable to stay.” 

‘And though he won’t admit it, Blaine can’t afford a hotel for much longer,’ Kurt added in his head.

Rachel blinked at him. “So, he’s-” 

“I know I should have called you last night and checked if it was alright to let him have the room with you first, but I forgot,” Kurt blabbered, not noticing Rachel’s attempts to speak. “I should have asked you first, I’m sorry.”

“Kurt,” Rachel said loudly enough to cut off his next slew of justifications for Blaine staying with them, “it’s ok. Yes, you should have checked with me before telling him he could stay, but I don’t need the room for anything and I’m quite happy for him to stay with us for as long as he’s in New York.”

Kurt stared at her. “Really? You’re really ok with this?”

Rachel nodded. “Of course I am. Blaine seems like a nice guy; I don’t mind him staying.”

Kurt pulled Rachel into a hug. “Thank you!” He decided then and there that Rachel was the best friend he could have asked for.

“Does this make up for me using the last of your hairspray yesterday?” Rachel wondered.

Laughing, Kurt let go of his friend. “I suppose so.” He shot a brief glance over his shoulder in the direction of the kitchen, to where Blaine was no doubt worrying about what they were saying. 

Rachel pushed lightly at his side. “Go tell Blaine to stop worrying I’ll kick him out; I’m going to go take a shower.”

He re-entered the kitchen to find Blaine staring down into the remaining dregs of his coffee, his hands wrapped around the mug. He was bouncing his right leg in a fast, erratic rhythm and worrying at his bottom lip with his teeth. His head jerked up when Kurt approached him, anxious eyes frantically searching Kurt’s face for answers to his worries. 

Kurt placed a hand on his knee; Blaine’s leg ceased bouncing. “Relax,” Kurt told him. “Rachel is fine with you staying.”

The tension left Blaine, his shoulders slumping slightly as it drained from his muscles. 

Kurt patted Blaine’s knee before reluctantly removing his hand. “She thinks you’re a nice guy,” he added in case Blaine had any remaining doubts. 

Blaine’s gaze shifted to the living room behind Kurt. “Where is she?”

“She’s gone to shower,” Kurt informed him. He gathered up their dirty breakfast dishes. “You can thank her later,” he said, knowing what Blaine was thinking. He set the dishes down in the sink. “I was thinking we could go shopping this morning before we start working on learning more about your time travel, since you said you had next to no clothes.”

“That would be much appreciated,” Blaine replied. “I’m guessing I should get some modern clothes, try and blend in a bit more.”

Kurt shot a brief glance over his shoulder as the sink filled with hot water. Blaine was staring unseeingly ahead, his expression thoughtful. “You don’t have to, your outfits aren’t that strange here, but you might be more comfortable wearing something more casual for a change.”

Blinking, Blaine looked down at his current outfit. He plucked at his t-shirt. “More casual,” he repeated wonderingly. One side of his mouth lifted into a smile. “You know, in my time, casual means shirtsleeves and no tie.” He got up, snagged the dish towel, and began drying the plates Kurt had washed. 

Kurt chuckled as he scrubbed the dishes clean. “You’re making yourself sound like an old man,” he observed. “’Back in my day…’” he mocked, doing a poor impersonation of an elderly man’s voice.

Blaine didn’t laugh. A strange expression crossed his face and he lowered his gaze to the bowl he was drying. “I should be an old man; I should be ninety-one years older.”

The mug Kurt had been lifting out of the sink slipped out of his hand, sinking back beneath the surface of the soapy water. He heard the dull thud as it hit the bottom of the sink in the silence that followed Blaine’s words. He’d never thought of it that way, it had never crossed his mind how things would be for Blaine if he had not travelled into the future. Blaine was twenty-two, and if he was supposed to be ninety-one years older, then-

Kurt blocked his train of thought. He didn’t want to think about that. He couldn’t be thinking like that, and neither should Blaine.

He hastily changed the subject.

“Is there anything other than clothes you need? I’m guessing you have a toothbrush and things.” He cleaned the mug he’d dropped earlier and passed it to Blaine.

Blaine accepted it, the horrible, distant look thankfully lifting from his eyes. “I really need to shave,” he said, rubbing at his jaw which was darkened with stubble. “My facial hair grows so quickly.”

“Oh.” Kurt pulled the plug from the sink, letting the water drain. He found Blaine’s facial hair to be very attractive and wouldn’t at all mind if Blaine didn’t shave. “Right, of course. We can go somewhere you can get a razor and stuff.”

He was cornered by Rachel when he went to get dressed. She sat outside the bathroom door while he showered and brushed his teeth, shouting incessant questions about Blaine over the roar of the shower. He ignored most of them, rolling his eyes and yelling at her to mind her own business as she asked things that would require him to lie – he and Blaine hadn’t agreed on a cover story yet. She eventually left the room, allowing him to finish getting dressed in peace, and he breathed a sigh of relief – until he went through to the living room to find Rachel interrogating a stammering Blaine.

“Leave him alone, Rachel,” he called out, pulling on his coat and smiling at Blaine when he looked up in relief. “Blaine and I are going out,” he added as Blaine hurried to his side. “We’ll see you later.”

Ushering Blaine on ahead of him, he closed the door on whatever Rachel’s response was.

~ * ~

Shopping with Kurt was…different. Blaine supposed he should have expected it, what with Kurt being a fashion designer and all, but he was flabbergasted at how much he got into it. He took Blaine to so many stores he lost count, leading the way through large, bright stores past racks upon racks of clothes to the men’s section where he searched through piles of pants and rails of shirts to find ones he thought would suit Blaine. Blaine had very little input on the clothes picked out for him. Not knowing the current fashions nor having an expert eye for what looked good, he was happy to leave all the decisions to Kurt, only speaking up to let Kurt know whenever he really liked something. 

After a good few hours of marching between stores and Kurt holding clothes up against his body to judge how the style and fit looked on him, they headed back to the apartment, carrying several bags of clothing apiece. 

“You enjoyed that far too much,” Blaine decided, looking at Kurt’s gleeful, satisfied smile.

The smile widened, causing Kurt’s eyes to crinkle at the corners. “I always enjoy shopping, but it’s even more fun when someone’s letting me dress them, which you basically just did.” He reached in his pocket for his keys and unlocked the apartment door.

“I did, didn’t I?” Blaine let his feet carry him into the apartment, his mind on this new perspective of their shopping trip. “I was like your doll for the morning.”

Kurt dumped his bags on the couch. “A very dapper doll with a fondness for bowties,” he amended.

Blaine set his bags down and absently followed Kurt into the kitchen, his mind on something he’d noticed during their shopping trip.

“Do you just want a sandwich for lunch? It’s something quick, so we can start looking into-”

“Kurt,” Blaine interrupted, not even noticing the other man was speaking.

Falling quiet, Kurt turned away from the fridge to face Blaine, his brows knitting together in a small frown at his tone of voice. “Yeah?”

“While we were out I noticed quite a few men holding hands with other men – and female homosexual couples, too.” Blaine spoke staring ahead of him, his eyes unfocused, his mind replaying a memory of two men walking down the street holding hands.

Kurt’s frown deepened. “Yes…” he said slowly, sounding confused.

“I-” Blaine focused his eyes upon Kurt. “Nobody was staring at them or shouting abusive threats.” His voice was small, his surprise dampened by sadness and longing. “It’s- It’s normal here,” he said, blinking a few times in quick succession in his surprise. “People don’t treat you like you’ve got some horrible, contagious disease. People don’t hide their true feelings – their true selves – out of fear.” He blinked against the stinging in his eyes, trying to keep the tears at bay.

Kurt’s expression softened, understanding dawning in his eyes. He appeared to be at a loss for words, opening and closing his mouth several times before finally saying gently, “Attitudes have changed; people are more accepting and open-minded these days.”

Blaine bit his lip and dropped his gaze to the floor, the tiles becoming a wavering white blur as the tears broke through his weak attempts to hold them back. This was the world he’d dreamed of living in, where nobody shunned you or treated you differently because of who you were or who you loved. This was the kind of attitudes and acceptance he’d wistfully imagined while lying in bed at night after a particularly difficult day of keeping his mask in place, the daydreams that had kept him sane and enabled him to get up each morning and keep going. A stubborn, optimistic part of him had always hoped somewhere like this existed, and now he knew it did, but he’d had to go ninety-one years into the future to find it.

A comforting hand was placed on his shoulder, squeezing it gently. Blaine squeezed his eyes shut and a single tear escaped from the corner of his eye and slid down his cheek.

“When people talk about time travelling they only ever say how fantastic it would be to see how everything has advanced in the future and what new technology they have, they never think about how devastatingly hard it would be to see something you wished desperately to be real, knowing you could never have it, because in your own time it doesn’t exist,” Kurt said softly. 

The tear clinging to Blaine’s jaw fell to the floor. He sniffed quietly. “I never really thought about it that way either, until now,” he admitted thickly. He sniffed again. “Back in- Back home nobody knows I’m homosexual with the exception of my friend, Wes. I can’t tell my family or anyone else, I’d be exiled if I did – they’d disown me.” 

Kurt rubbed soothingly at his back. “You know, it’s- it’s still not completely accepted here, either. Here in New York it is, gay marriage is allowed and it’s pretty much considered normal, but it’s not like that everywhere. I come from Ohio where it most certainly is not normal to be gay.”

Swallowing around the thickness in his throat, Blaine pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to dry the tears on his face. “Do your parents know you’re gay?” he asked, finally looking back up at Kurt. 

“I told my dad when I was sixteen – I’m lucky, he’s always been very supportive of me and nothing changed between us.” A small smile twitched the corners of Kurt’s mouth. “He said he’d known since I was three.” The amused spark in his eyes faded. “I never got the chance to tell my mom, she died when I was young.”

Blaine froze, his eyes widening. “Oh, Kurt, I’m so sorry to hear that.”

Kurt gave him a tight smile. “It was a long time ago.” He shook his head and squeezed Blaine’s shoulder again. “You being here and experiencing this era feels horribly like you’re being shown this wonderful treat that’s going to be snatched away before you can have it.”

Blaine let his gaze wander around the slice of Kurt’s apartment he could see. “Even though I haven’t been here long and I’m still getting used to everything, I feel like I belong here. I feel more comfortable here than I ever did back home. I- I haven’t felt this happy in years,” he admitted with a smile. He didn’t add that this feeling of happiness, of belonging, of home was due mostly to Kurt. Before he’d become friends with Kurt he’d felt lost, anxious, and had wanted nothing more than to go home. But now, now he wasn’t so sure he wanted to leave.


	5. Chapter 5

“It was right about here; I remember that crack in the brick.”

Blaine stopped by the stretch of wall and pointed to a deep, weathered crack in one of the red bricks. Kurt came to a stop next to him and began surveying the surrounding area with shrewd eyes. He and Kurt were out looking at the coffee shop outside of which Blaine had travelled into the future. It was the first step in their plan to try and find the answers to all of Blaine’s questions. How had he gotten here? Why was he here? How could he return home? Kurt was sure the location of Blaine’s time travel would hold some clues and Blaine had a nagging suspicion that the coffee shop behind him which had hardly changed in the last ninety-one years was somehow significant.

As if hearing his thoughts, Kurt asked, “Is there anything around here that’s still the same or nearly the same as it was in your time?”

“The coffee shop, actually,” Blaine replied, glancing over his shoulder at it as he spoke. “It’s almost identical to how it was back then. It had only been open for a week or so.”

Kurt looked away from the restaurant down the road he’d been frowning at and rolled his eyes at himself. “Of course – it opened in nineteen-twenty-three.” He gave his head a small shake. “Can’t believe I forgot that.” He squinted at the café’s exterior, shielding his eyes against the afternoon sun. “Maybe someone inside the coffee shop sent you to the future? Had you been to it before?”

Blaine nodded. “Twice: the day after it opened, and three days before I travelled.”

Kurt hadn’t looked away from the café and Blaine followed his gaze, frowning at the closest of the large windows on either side of the door through which he could see customers seated at tables and others getting takeaway coffee at the counter.

“Did you notice anything out of the ordinary either of those times you visited?” Kurt asked.

Blaine’s forehead scrunched slightly as he thought back over his visits to the small café carefully. “No,” he replied after a pause. “It was just a typical café.”

“Was there anyone inside that stood out to you? Anyone who was there both times you visited?” Kurt pressed, nibbling absently on his bottom lip as he watched two women leave the café.

Blaine shook his head again. “Other than the owner, there was nobody that I noticed. And no one stood out to me; there was nothing unusual at all.” He only wished it were that easy, that he suddenly remembered a strange figure in a hooded cloak watching him from the shadows both times he’d entered the café, someone who plotted to send him into the future. But life and its problems were rarely that simple.

Kurt hummed in response and the pair of them stared at the coffee shop’s entrance for a long moment, watching the steady trickle of customers coming and going who were unaware of the mystery surrounding the small café.

“We could talk to the owner,” Blaine suggested, breaking the contemplative silence. “Since it has been kept in the family, they might know of something that could help.” He nodded at the pronouncement displayed proudly below the café’s name, declaring the café’s long-time family ownership.

Kurt glanced sideways at him, lifting his shoulders in a tiny shrug. “Seems silly not to. And any stories involving time travelling would have been passed down the generations as well.”

Blaine hung back as they entered the coffee shop. That insistent voice telling him this café was significant was still present in his head and he was almost certain the owner would tell them something of importance. The more he thought about going home the more reluctant he became towards returning. A lot of people would love to be in his position: seeing the future, discovering how the world worked now and all the changes that had occurred throughout the years. He should want to stay a little longer, learn as much as he could, and explore a bit before returning. But that wasn’t what was driving his reluctance to leave; it was that he had nothing really worth returning home for.

The café was emptying of the lunchtime crowds and Blaine and Kurt were able to walk straight up to the counter without queuing. Lost in his own worries, Blaine didn’t hear Kurt asking the barista if the owner was available; but he must have done so for when Blaine finally focused on the present Kurt was introducing them to a dark-haired man in his early forties.

“-has been in your family since it opened, am I correct?” Kurt asked.

The owner nodded, his eyes flicking between Kurt and Blaine curiously.

“Since it was opened in the twenties,” he confirmed, a hint of pride creeping into his voice.

Kurt’s smile was strained. “This might seem like an odd thing to ask, but have there been any…” Kurt hesitated for a second, searching for the best word to use. “…unusual events that have taken place here since it opened?” The owner’s puzzled and calculating frown lifted into a look of surprise. “That you know of,” Kurt added.

Blaine shifted anxiously on the spot. He was acutely aware he was letting Kurt do all the talking for him, but he didn’t think he was capable of doing what Kurt was: of asking the right questions, of keeping a level and calm voice. He was also pretty certain anxiety and reluctance had strangled his vocal chords.

The owner squinted contemplatively, drumming the fingers of his left hand on the counter as he thought. “We’ve had some pretty big-name celebrities come in over the years. Overheard some interesting conversations they’ve had, but I wouldn’t call that unusual.” He shook his head. “There’s nothing that I can think of.”

Blaine let out a breath he didn’t realise he had been holding and felt Kurt deflate next to him. He had been so sure the coffee shop had something to do with it, and now the owner had proved him wrong. They were back to square one. He felt both disheartened and guiltily relieved about it.

“Nothing?” Kurt pressed, sounding slightly desperate. “Nothing at all?”

The owner shook his head again, his frown returning and suspicion appearing in his eyes. “Nothing,” he reiterated. “Why are you asking?”

Blaine’s stomach clenched with panic and he fought with the urge to look at Kurt with a stricken expression. They hadn’t prepared for this, had no cover story in place for why they would be asking such questions. Before Blaine’s panic could escalate any further and appear clearly on his face, Kurt responded.

“We’re doing some research on the local area for an assignment for college,” he lied smoothly. “We wanted to make ours stand-out by covering an unusual event that few people may have heard of.”

All suspicion gone, the owner straightened up from where he’d been leaning against the counter, now looking apologetic. “Sorry, boys, but nothing really exciting has ever happened here. It’s just a coffee shop.” He smiled and excused himself, moving over to further down the counter to serve a woman examining the display of cakes and cookies.

Kurt turned to Blaine. “Well, that’s that,” he sighed, looking put-out. “I was expecting to get something to go on from him.”

“Me, too,” Blaine agreed.

They left the café, Kurt a little dejected with a frown on his face, and Blaine feeling both lightened and more weighed down than before. They stopped by the crack in the wall again. Kurt sighed and rubbed at his eye when he saw it.

“Back to the drawing board, I guess.” He glanced briefly over at the café again. “And that was my best idea, as well.” He lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug and gave Blaine a small smile. “Oh well, I guess we’re going to have to resort to seeing what Google can tell us.”

Blaine blinked, puzzled. “Google?” he repeated slowly, never having heard the word before.

Kurt’s smile widened. He reached for Blaine’s hand, folding his fingers around Blaine’s and tugging him along after him as he set off down the street. “It’s time you learned about the wonders of the internet.”

Kurt’s hand remained in his for almost the entire journey home: skin as soft as he remembered, palm warm against his own, the tips of his fingers a little cooler where they rested on the back of his hand. It wasn’t until they’d passed the halfway point of their journey that Blaine felt the blush finally fade from his cheeks and the jittery, electric feeling in his veins dampen down so his pulse was a steady thrumming instead of a wild gallop.

Unable to help himself, he snuck several glances at Kurt and was pleased to see a soft pink tinging the taller man’s cheeks and a small smile quirking up the corners of his mouth. But Blaine forgot all about the hand-holding and Kurt’s pleased smile when he saw what the internet was. The feel of Kurt’s hand entwined with his own was pushed to the back of his mind when Kurt slid a slim device he called a computer onto the table in front of them and explained what both it and the internet were, in the simplest way he could.

“Incredible,” Blaine murmured for what had to be the fourth or fifth time as he watched Kurt click on yet another article on time travel and frown at what appeared on the screen. “I can’t believe all this information is stored on this little thing – what did you say it was called again?” Blaine prodded at the corner of the mind-blowing silver rectangle in front of him.

Kurt shot him an amused look. “It’s a computer,” he reminded him, gently pushing Blaine’s hand away as Blaine ran his fingers curiously along the side of the computer’s base. “And that’s not quite how it works. All this information isn’t stored on the computer, it’s- it’s-” Kurt’s gaze searched the ceiling as if the explanation for how it all worked was written up there. “It’s hard to explain, but people all over the world have access to this,” he waved a hand to indicate the information displayed on the computer, “not just me.” He surveyed Blaine thoughtfully for a few seconds. “It’s a bit like a radio: everyone can see all of this if they tune into the right frequency.”

Understanding shot through Blaine and he blinked at the computer. “Oh, I see.” He watched with wide eyes as Kurt expertly navigated his way through more of the bountiful, fascinating internet. “So, you can just look up anything on this and it will tell you everything you need to know? Why do people still go to school if everything you could possibly want to learn and more is all here?”

Kurt moved his hand away from the computer and stopped searching through all the seemingly endless information. “The internet doesn’t have the answer to everything; if it did we would have found how you can get home ages ago. And we can’t rely on the internet for everything, someone has to make all this information available on it, so if everyone relied on the internet for everything we would reach a futile cycle and nobody would learn anything anymore.” He smiled at Blaine’s awestruck expression as he watched him return to the computer and switch back to what they’d been looking at previously.

Kurt pushed the computer a little closer to Blaine. “Do you want a turn?” he offered.

Giddy excitement shot through Blaine and he nodded eagerly, sitting forward in his chair and peering intently at the computer, wanting to start but not having a clue where to begin.

“This is what you use to navigate through the internet,” Kurt explained, nudging the small black object he had been resting his hand on towards Blaine. He took Blaine’s right hand in his own, causing Blaine’s skin to tingle softly with hypersensitivity, and placed it on top of the black object. “It’s called a mouse.”

“A mouse?” Blaine repeated in bewilderment. He squinted down at the object underneath his hand. “It looks nothing like a mouse.”

Kurt shrugged. “Yeah, I don’t know where the name came from, but…” He placed his hand on top of Blaine’s where it rested on the mouse – Blaine tried not to jump in his seat at the contact. “If you move your hand around you move that little arrow on the screen,” he pointed, “and you can click on something – like this,” he pressed Blaine’s index finger down, “and a new page will load up.”

With the warmth of Kurt’s hand seeping through the back of his own, and Kurt’s gentle breath tickling his cheek, Blaine had a shot at exploring the internet. He could feel the amazement and fascination in his expression as Kurt helped him guide the tiny arrow around the page and select new things, making new information and pictures pop up in front of his eyes. To his great disappointment, when he started to get the hang of how to work the mouse, Kurt removed his hand, leaving the back of Blaine’s hands and fingers feeling cold and bare.

After a minute or two he felt Kurt’s eyes on him and he looked over at the other man, as though his gaze had a magnetic pull on him. Their eyes met and their gazes held for a long moment, something passing between them, something that made Blaine’s heart leap up towards his throat and his fingers to tremble where they rested against the smooth curve of the mouse. He didn’t know how long passed by until Kurt looked away – seconds, minutes, hours, maybe – but when he did, Blaine could feel a hot blush burning up his neck and face.

Kurt cleared his throat, his own cheeks stained a deep pink that stood out against the rest of his pale skin. “Rachel will be home soon,” he announced, his voice slightly shaky. “Do you want to help me cook dinner?”

Dinner with Rachel was horribly nerve-wracking. She took the opportunity of spending more than a few minutes with Blaine to learn everything she could about him. To Blaine it felt like an interrogation and his hands shook, making it difficult to cut his chicken as Rachel fired question after question at him.

It started off easy and innocent enough, Rachel asking both him and Kurt how their day had been and what they’d been up to. Kurt twisted the truth smoothly, telling her they’d gone for coffee and a walk round the neighbourhood before coming back to make dinner. But then Rachel’s questions gradually became more worrisome. Blaine broke out in a nervous sweat and tried to think quickly, inventing believable answers to her questions about the friend he’d travelled to the city to visit, his family, and life in Connecticut. He tried to tell himself that she was simply being friendly and polite, but in his nervous state it seemed like she was trying to catch him out and he tried his best not to slip up.

Kurt told her a few times to leave Blaine in peace to have his dinner, but she ignored him. It was as if she knew something already and was determined to prove a point. Her eyes kept swivelling between Kurt and Blaine, a small frown appearing on her face every now and then. She narrowed her eyes when she caught Blaine shooting Kurt a brief, helpless look as he made up some stuff about living in Connecticut. The thought of what could be running through Rachel’s head at that moment had Blaine worried to the point of feeling sick.

When Kurt began clearing away their dirty plates once they’d finished eating, Blaine jumped to his feet and offered to clear the table, wanting to escape Rachel’s questions and scrutinising stares. Kurt protested, but Rachel, to Blaine’s surprise, interrupted him.

“If Blaine wants to help out, then let him,” she told Kurt, sitting back in her chair. “After all, he is living here, he’s not just a guest over for dinner.”

Kurt frowned. “Rachel-” he began.

“It’s fine,” Blaine told him, smiling reassuringly to emphasise his point. “I do want to help out. I feel bad staying here and not doing anything to pay you back for your generosity.”

“You don’t have to-”

“He’s only clearing the table, Kurt,” Rachel pointed out sharply.

Giving in, Kurt allowed Blaine to take his plate. “Fine.”

Stacking the plates, Blaine carried them through to the kitchen and sat them by the sink. Bracing his hands on the countertop, he let out a shaky breath.

He’d have to straighten out his full cover story and stick to it, and maybe use the internet to do some research on Connecticut so if Rachel or anyone else asked more questions he wouldn’t have to stutter his way through a response. Otherwise sooner or later someone would realise he wasn’t telling the truth and demand to know what was really going on. That was the last thing he wanted.

Reaching to turn on the hot water, he filled the sink, and then washed the dishes before placing them back in the cupboard once they were dry. The mundane task helped calm his frayed nerves and when the last plate was put away he felt composed enough to return to the table with a smile on his face.

“-is a bit strange, maybe he’s one of those undercover agents or a drug dealer or something?”

Rachel’s voice had Blaine freezing in the entrance to the kitchen. She was clearly talking about him and he had been right, she was suspicious about his behaviour. He hated to eavesdrop and considered it extremely rude, but knowing that Rachel and Kurt were discussing him made it impossible to resist listening in.

“He is not a drug dealer!” Kurt hissed in response, his voice lower than Rachel’s, only just discernible from where Blaine was standing. “He’s nothing like that, at all. You’ve got it all wrong.”

Rachel made a derisive noise. “Oh, come on, Kurt, you were saying yourself only a week ago you thought there was something odd about him, so don’t act like I’m making stuff up to cause trouble.”

A sharp spike of hurt stabbed through Blaine and he stumbled back a step, throwing out a hand to brace against the wall as all the air rushed from his lungs leaving him with a breathless and empty feeling while he stared wide-eyed in the direction of Rachel’s voice. Kurt thought he was abnormal and weird, just as he’d feared. He was from decades in the past, so he didn’t blame Kurt for feeling this way, but he had hoped he was different, that he didn’t judge him on his differences borne from being almost from another century. He had thought Kurt didn’t see him as some sort of alien human being, but he was clearly wrong.

He missed Kurt’s response to Rachel, his uneven breathing, faintly ringing ears, and the painful throbbing of his heart making it impossible to hear anything other than the hum of his voice. Swallowing hard, he stepped forward until he was within hearing range of Kurt and Rachel again, dreading to hear what else they thought about him but determined to know all the same.

“Blaine is a really nice guy,” Kurt was saying, a hint of his annoyance still present in his tone. “And I really like him, so I would appreciate it if you were more civil towards him like I am around your obnoxious Broadway friends.”

“I didn’t mean to sound so distrustful, I’m sorry,” Rachel apologised, her voice slightly pleading as she willed Kurt to understand. “It’s not that I don’t like Blaine – I do like him – it’s just…”

“It’s just what?” Kurt asked shortly.

Blaine shuffled a little closer as the silence drew out for several long seconds, not wanting to miss Rachel’s response. He held his breath as he strained his ears for her reply, wishing his heart wasn’t pounding so loudly in his ears so he could hear better.

“Just… I don’t know…” Rachel trailed off helplessly. “I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

There was another pause, but this one was different; the tension was palpable even from where Blaine stood.

“What has Blaine got to do with Liam?” Kurt asked, his voice carefully controlled.

Blaine frowned – who was Liam?

“I- Maybe nothing,” Rachel replied cautiously. “But, Kurt-”

“No, Rachel,” Kurt warned her firmly. There was a soft thud, like someone setting a glass down on the table and Blaine retreated to the kitchen, his mind buzzing with what he’s just heard. It didn’t sound as though Rachel knew the truth about him or that she had picked up he had been lying earlier, but she was wary of him, and it appeared to have something to do with someone named Liam.

Hitching a well-practiced smile on his face, Blaine headed back through to the dining area where Kurt and Rachel were still seated at the table; Kurt frowning at the glass of water in front of him and Rachel staring across the living area with unfocused eyes. They both came out of their thoughts when Blaine approached the table, smiling at him pleasantly and thanking him for clearing the table. Rachel excused herself shortly afterwards, saying she had a script to read through, and left the table leaving Kurt, Blaine, and a slight note of awkwardness in the air.

Kurt smiled apologetically. “Sorry about Rachel. She’s been like that for as long as I’ve known her: a bit nosey and never able to tell when people are uncomfortable or when to stop talking.” At Blaine’s nod of understanding, he added, “You’ve survived the interrogation, though; she won’t bombard you with questions like that again.”

And just like that the awkwardness was gone. Blaine had decided to file away everything he’d overheard earlier to think about sometime he was less tired and Kurt seemed to have shaken off his annoyance with Rachel. They moved through to the living area, Kurt sketching in the large pad of paper he kept on the coffee table, while Blaine looked through an encyclopaedia, familiarising himself with the modern world and marvelling at how much mankind had advanced in ninety-one years.

Though neither of them spoke, Blaine still felt as though he was sharing his evening with Kurt. The soft sounds of Kurt’s pencil moving across paper and the occasional rustle of fabric as Kurt shifted in his seat was background music as Blaine read. He felt extremely content curled up in the armchair with his legs tucked up beside him and the large, hardback book balanced on the armrest. The hours flew by, his eyelids gradually becoming heavier as tiredness settled in.

Stifling a yawn, he looked up from his book and stretched, the pull of his muscles feeling good after hours sitting bent over a book. He looked over at Kurt and was surprised to find him showing no signs of stopping his sketching for the day. His face was set with concentration as his hand moved over the page, expertly wielding a pencil and scratching out all the details of the design he held in his mind. Some of his hair had escaped its sculpted coif and had fallen over his forehead, but lost in his drawings, Kurt hadn’t noticed.

Blaine took the opportunity to study the other man, admiring the way Kurt still managed to look stylish in a pair of loose-fitting pants and a t-shirt. The soft light from a nearby lamp threw shadows across his face, accentuating the slight upturn of his nose and the line of his jaw. Blaine found his gaze being drawn to the way the muscles in his hand moved as he drew and he felt a sudden urge to smooth his hand over those muscles, a craving to feel those hands on his skin. He blinked and looked away, pushing aside the images threatening to cloud his mind. Kurt was his friend, a friend who was letting him stay in his home and helping him to return to his own time, he shouldn’t be thinking that way about him.

Kurt was his friend, yet he had eavesdropped on one of his private conversations.

A wave of guilt flooded Blaine at the thought and he looked back up at Kurt, this time not admiring him but watching him apprehensively as he debated whether or not to admit to him what he’d done. He bit his lip – honesty was important to him and he hated keeping secrets from his parents and friends back home, he didn’t want to do the same here and hide things like this from Kurt.

He cleared his throat quietly. “Um, Kurt?”

Kurt hummed to show he was listening and looked up from his sketch pad, his hold on his pencil loosening.

Blaine rubbed at his forearm. “I- Earlier when I cleared away after dinner I was coming back to the table when I heard-” He hesitated for a second. “I heard you and Rachel talking.”

Kurt said nothing at first and Blaine immediately began to panic, anticipating Kurt being angry at him for eavesdropping on private conversations in his home, Kurt never trusting him again, or even demanding he pack his bags and go back to stay in the hotel. Just as he was about to start babbling apologies, Kurt shook his head apologetically, getting to his feet and setting his sketch pad and pencil down on the coffee table.

“I wish you hadn’t heard that,” he groaned, dropping down onto the couch next to Blaine and rubbing at a spot above his left eyebrow. “I’m sorry.”

Confusion slowly replacing his panic, Blaine blinked. “For what? I was the one who so rudely listened in on your private conversation.”

Kurt nodded absently, his expression both troubled and mildly frustrated. “True, but you now know what I thought of you when we first met. You know I thought you were strange, yet I was friendly and even flirty to your face.”

Blaine felt a pleasant jumping sensation somewhere in his belly at Kurt’s mention of being flirty. Ignoring the rapid pounding of his heart, he slid forwards until he was sitting on the edge of the couch, leaning towards Kurt as he willed him to understand that he didn’t care about Kurt’s original impression of him, all that mattered was how he felt now. He’d gotten over his initial hurt to discovering how Kurt felt, and after taking some time to think about it, had realised why Kurt had felt that way; he would have thought the same had their situations been reversed.

“Kurt, it doesn’t matter how you felt back them. To be honest, I would have been more surprised if you didn’t think I was strange. I had just been transported from another era and had no idea how to dress or behave or how anything worked – I still don’t.” He smiled at Kurt. “What matters is despite thinking that way you didn’t keep well away from me. You stayed around to learn my story and get to know me.” Kurt’s gaze never wavered from Blaine’s and he had to swallow thickly. Kurt’s expression was unreadable but his eyes held something which made Blaine’s pulse thrum in his ears. “You came up to me in the coffee shop,” he finished, his voice coming out slightly strangled as his words squeezed out through the tightening of his throat.

“I did,” Kurt whispered. “I saw something in you when you stopped me on the street, I couldn’t get you out of my head for the rest of the day.”

The tension in the room was so heavy Blaine imagined he could feel it pressing down on him. It made his movements slow, like he was submerged in some viscous fluid. His thoughts, however, flicked through his head at top speed, blurring together so he couldn’t make sense of them and struggled to string a coherent thought together. All he could do was stare as Kurt shifted closer until he could feel the heat radiating from Kurt’s body and his scent filled his nostrils – herbs from the cooking earlier, some intoxicating mixture of sweetness and spice that must be his cologne, and below all of that, something delicious and masculine he couldn’t even begin to describe: something that made him crave closeness.

He sucked in a tiny breath, nowhere near enough oxygen to stop his mind from spinning or to calm his racing heart, but he couldn’t breathe, not with Kurt so close he could clearly see all the faint freckles on his nose and cheeks. Kurt’s eyes were still locked on his until the space between them closed further and Blaine’s eyes fluttered closed of their own accord. He felt a hand rest on his knee, sending a tingling spark through his leg, and Kurt’s breath ghosted over his parted lips. A barest brush of lips against his, he leant a little further forward, his heart leaping-

A phone rang shrilly, and Kurt and Blaine both jumped back from each other, Kurt snatching his hand back as though he’d been electrocuted. Heart thumping frantically in his chest, Blaine looked around wildly for the source of the noise. A distant shout of “I’ll get it!” came from the direction of Rachel’s room and the ringing cut off soon afterwards. 

Blaine looked back to Kurt to find the other man breathing heavily and staring at him with wide eyes.

“We should- We should probably go to bed,” Kurt stammered, his voice cracking on some of the words.

Unable to speak, Blaine simply nodded. His legs shook under him as he got to his feet and he tried not to let this unsteadiness show as he followed Kurt through to their bedrooms.

Kurt paused outside his bedroom door and he shot Blaine a nervous glance, his gaze skittering away before Blaine could meet his eyes.

“Goodnight,” he said softly, already nudging his door open with his hip.

Blaine cleared his throat. “Goodnight, Kurt.”

Kurt smiled at him briefly before disappearing into his bedroom. With disappointment crashing inside him and the phantom feeling of Kurt’s breath and feather-light touch of mouth on his lips, Blaine headed for bed.

~ * ~

Kurt tried to shake-off their near-kiss, but it proved to be much harder to do than he thought. The memory of Blaine’s face inches from his own, their breaths intermingling in the slim space between them, kept creeping into his mind and taking root there until he was able to force it aside and think of something else. He kept imagining there was something different about his mouth, that he could taste Blaine on his lips, even though he wasn’t entirely sure their lips had actually touched. The more the night wore on and the more he replayed and overanalysed the moment, the more he questioned and doubted what had happened and by morning he wasn’t sure how close they came to kissing.

With the intent of both distracting himself and showing Blaine more of the modern world, he decided to spend the day showing Blaine around the city. Though he knew Blaine was from New York and not Connecticut like he had originally told him, the city had changed so much in the last ninety-one years he felt it would be a good idea to let him see this. And what better way was there for Blaine to see and learn about the world as it was today than to get out in it?

It was an unseasonably warm autumn’s day and the city was bathed in pleasant warm sunshine. Blaine looked unfairly attractive in his t-shirt and maroon cardigan, the outfit somehow making him look at home in the twenty-first century yet still retaining hints of the charm of his own era – or maybe it was only Kurt who saw this. Kurt kept glancing over at Blaine with the intention of seeing his reaction to everything around them, but his gaze kept catching on some small detail – the way his hair curled at the nape of his neck, the sweep of his eyelashes against his cheek when he looked down, the tiny freckles sprinkled on his nose – and he would stare, entranced, until he reminded himself again that Blaine needed a friend right now, nothing more.

‘And besides,’ he added to himself after wrenching his eyes away from the flex of Blaine’s arm muscles, ‘Blaine will be leaving as soon as you discover how he can get home and you’ll be separated by time once more.’

Gloom settled over him in a dark cloud at this thought and he struggled to hitch a smile on his face when he turned to Blaine.

He indicated the road leading down to the right with a nod of his head. “Let’s go this way; I want to show you my favourite part of the city.”

Blaine’s radiant smile made misery settle even heavier in Kurt’s stomach, and his gut wrenched as he lead the way towards Central Park. He had heard of smiles that supposedly lit an entire room but had never seen a smile that so accurately fit that description until he met Blaine. It was maybe silly that Blaine’s smile was going to be one of the things he would miss the most about him when he left, but he really would miss looking up and seeing that smile spreading across Blaine’s face, crinkling the skin at the corners of his eyes and lighting his irises up in varying shades of gold and hazel.

When they reached the spot in Central Park Kurt wanted to show Blaine, nothing was needed to be said to explain why the spot was special or why there, above the rest of New York City, was Kurt’s favourite place. They stood side-by-side on rocky outcrops of land, gazing silently out over the dozens of skyscrapers towering over the park’s trees. The seemingly abrupt change from the peace and greenery of parkland to the sharpness and bustle of the city made it feel like they were out in the open countryside, viewing the outskirts of the city from afar. They were taking a step back and viewing New York City from a distance, looking at the big picture instead of focussing on single streets lined with countless buildings.

Eventually, Kurt spoke. 

“I come here when I need a break from the daily grinding routine, when I need an escape from work deadlines and the rush of the morning commute. It makes me feel I’ve left it all for a bit, that I’ve had a few hours of escape.”

They stayed there for a while, gazing out across the stretch of park towards where the city began again. Though they didn’t speak, Kurt felt something change between them - a bond strengthening, as if sharing a place so special to him with Blaine had deepened their emotional connection, making their relationship stronger and more precious. When they moved on and walked towards an exit from the park, Kurt felt closer to Blaine than he had felt an hour ago. He felt more at peace, too, and well-rested like he’d just awoken from a long, dreamless sleep, unbroken by alarm clocks or Rachel’s singing. Sitting in his spot with Blaine had been the first time in a long time he hadn’t been fretting about something or another, whether it be related to work or his personal life. He’d just enjoyed the view, the feeling of the sun on his face and the soft breeze in his hair, and sharing the moment with Blaine. And now, as he walked towards the street, he felt as though he was seeing New York through a different pair of eyes.

It was like he was seeing the city for the first time again; everything appeared awe-inspiring, bright, and full of promise. The atmosphere made his blood buzz in his veins once more, like some euphoric drug. He didn’t know whether this was because he was showing Blaine around to, what was to him, a changed city, if it was his visit to his favourite place, or both, but he felt like he was a teenager again, viewing the city through eyes filtered by excitement and big dreams. He remembered why he fell in love with the city: the opportunities, the diversity, the possibilities, and why he had so desperately wanted to move here, why he had chosen it of all places as his escape from Ohio. He was seeing everything that had become lost as a blur in the background of the day-to-day rush of work and commuting and life. It had been years since he’d stopped to smell the roses, or in this case, slow down enough to actually see what was around him - to really see where he lived.

Sunlight gleaming off the countless windows of buildings piercing the blue sky, tiny cafés and cramped restaurants lining the side streets, the thrumming life of Times Square bleeding light and energy into the streets that ran away from it like arteries, the stories and music of Broadway…

It was beautiful. And he had Blaine to thank for this moment, this reminder of who he was and why he was here, something he had lost hold of within months of moving here when he became his job and another faceless city commuter. Now he was Kurt again. Kurt who loved fashion and was still blown away by how he was a designer; who adored musicals and the escape from reality and life’s monotony they provided; who loved coffee and drinking a cup with a dash of cinnamon on a cold winter’s morning when his breath hung in a cloud in the sharply cold air and the warmth of the cup stung his numb, bare hands; Kurt who was living his dream of being a fashion designer in New York, making his mark in the city full of dreamers and believers.

“Thank you,” he told Blaine as they took in the view of Time’s Square spread out before them, its many lights glowing brightly under the pink sky of dusk.

Blaine turned away from the lights and billboards to shoot Kurt a look of confusion. “What for?”

“For reminding me why I worked so hard to make it in New York,” Kurt replied. “I’ve been so focused on the here and now I’d forgotten what I’ve achieved.” His gaze wandered over the large billboards advertising various Broadway productions, the electronic signs, and the string of yellow cabs on the road. “I’ve never taken a step back to really look at where I am in life before today, so thank you.”

Blaine looked at him for a long moment, his expression difficult to read, the look in his eyes tickling at a slowly dawning realisation in the back of Kurt’s mind and drying up his throat. “Thank you for showing me around the city,” Blaine said eventually. “It’s changed so much from the place I’m used to; it’s almost like being in another city.”

“Changed for the better or for worse?” Kurt wondered.

Forehead scrunching in thought, Blaine ran his eyes over the surrounding area again. “In some way it’s definitely better,” he replied slowly. “But in other ways, it maybe isn’t…” He shrugged and turned back to Kurt with a small smile. “I don’t know, I haven’t really been here long enough to judge; ask me again in a week or so.”

‘If you’re still here,’ Kurt added in his head. His good mood deflated slightly and he glumly watched a young couple take a picture of themselves with Time’s Square in the background – arms around each other, wide smiles on their faces. He stamped his rising sadness with its bite of jealousy down. He touched Blaine’s elbow. “Are you ready to head back? Rachel’s out tonight so I thought we’d order in Chinese food for dinner.”

“You can do that?” Blaine looked baffled.

Kurt couldn’t help but smile at the expression on the other man’s face. “This will be another new experience of twenty-first century living for you.”


	6. Chapter 6

“Who’s Liam?”

Kurt froze, the stack of sketches he was holding almost falling out his slack grasp onto the floor. Reflexively snatching at the papers before they fell, he stared at Blaine’s curious expression, shock and a sudden gush of all the old feelings crashing around inside him. Aside from the brief mention a couple of days ago, he hadn’t heard the name of his ex-boyfriend spoken in almost a year. It was the name of someone he didn’t like to think about and whom he and Rachel had a strict rule of never mentioning. Since the day he had determinedly shoved everything to do with Liam into a locked box inside of him, he rarely remembered he even existed. Only when certain songs came on the radio or when he heard someone say Liam’s well-used phrase of ‘let’s roll’ did the box crack open and all the suppressed memories and feelings threaten to spill out. And now he had been mentioned twice within a few days; Kurt found it all very unsettling.

Setting the pile of sketches down neatly on top of the rest where they lay on the coffee table, Kurt nervously licked his dry lips. He wanted to tell Blaine about Liam, to share his past with him, to help him understand why he was the person he was. But at the same time he didn’t want to tell him, didn’t want him to know how something that had happened almost a year ago was still affecting him today; he didn’t want him to see the weaker side of him, the chinks in his armour.

Resting his elbows on his knees he rubbed at his closed eyes. “Liam is my ex-boyfriend; we broke up almost a year ago.”

There was a long pause. Kurt didn’t dare lift his head to look at Blaine; for some reason, he didn’t want to see his expression.

“Oh,” Blaine said eventually, his voice small. “I- I’m sorry for bringing this up. I heard the name mentioned the other day and- I’m sorry, we don’t have to talk about this.”

Kurt raised his head. Blaine looked sincerely apologetic, like he really regretted mentioning Liam. Kurt gave his head a small shake, waving away his apology. “No, it’s fine. I- I think I want to tell you about it, it’s just been a while since I’ve spoken about him with anyone.”

Blaine’s brow furrowed with concern. “Kurt, you don’t have to-”

“But I want to,” Kurt insisted. He sat up straight, inhaling deeply and nodding his head. He could do this, he could talk about it, it had been months now, he had moved on from it all.

Twisting his fingers in his lap, he tried to decide where to begin.

“I grew up in a town in Ohio where being gay was- well… Most people there had similar attitudes towards homosexuals as what you’re used to.” He gave Blaine a weak smile. “I was tormented throughout high school for being open about who I was and it was made all the more difficult by being the only person out at my school.” At Blaine’s look of confusion, he added, “I was the only person who was open about being gay.” He began rubbing the palms of his hands over the rough fabric of his jeans, releasing some of his nervous energy through the repetitive motion. “When I moved out here for college I had zero experience in dating and was extremely naïve, all too eager and quick to jump into a relationship with the first guy who showed an interest in me.” 

Kurt swallowed hard and stopped the compulsive movements of his hands, digging his fingernails into the knees of his jeans. He was finally lifting the lid on the tightly sealed box containing memories of Liam. His pulse pounded in his ears and Blaine’s attentive, concerned face blurred out of focus as he sifted through the contents of the box. There was no backing out now.

“Liam was on my course and after we worked together during a design workshop we stuck together during our classes. Within a fortnight of semester starting, he asked me out.”

An image filled Kurt’s head: Liam smiling across a café table at him as they ate lunch. His face was ever so slightly out of focus and the background was nondescript smudges of soft colours, the whole scene faded around the edges like an old photograph that had been viewed too often. It was a memory that Kurt had once held fondly but was now tainted and spoiled by more recent events and a change in the way his heart beat.

He traced a line up his thigh with his finger. “I fell for him hard and fast. During my last few years of high school I’d felt lonely and extremely jealous of my friends going on dates and having all these experiences that I never got the chance to have. Looking back, I think I was more in love with being in a relationship than I was with Liam himself.” He lifted his shoulders in a small shrug, the nonchalant movement failing to mask his true discomfort, the tension in his shoulders and the stiffness in his voice betraying him. “I threw myself into my relationship with Liam. After we broke up I blamed it on me being too clingy, but it wasn’t that.

“Not long after we graduated from college I asked him to move in with me, he agreed, we were happy. It was like a dream, and I was imagining spending the rest of my life with him, though I never mentioned that to him; we were still young and I was a bit of a hopeless romantic. We were happy, our relationship was solid, I had no warning for what happened less than a week after he moved in with me: I came home to find his stuff was all gone and he’d moved out. I thought he’d just decided he wasn’t ready for us to live together and we’d hit a bump in the road, but I never heard from him again. My texts and calls got no response, and then his number was changed a few days later. I went to his old apartment but it was still empty and the landlord said someone else would be moving into it soon, I spoke to his friends but they hadn’t heard from him. I was in despair. I was confused and hurt and betrayed, but a part of me still clung to the hope he’d come back and we could fix whatever had gone wrong.”

Blaine had gone very still as he listened to Kurt speak, his eyes fixed almost unblinkingly on Kurt’s face. There was so much concern and pity on his face that Kurt couldn’t look at him for very long, instead fixing his gaze on a small dent in the wooden floor where Rachel had dropped her end of the coffee table when they’d been moving in.

“I got the story out of one of Liam’s friends a week later. Liam had moved back to his hometown of Indianapolis and cut himself off from nearly everyone in New York. He’d been feeling overwhelmed by everything from our relationship to trying to find the right job in the fashion industry and had needed out.” Kurt’s voice became bitter. “Apparently he thought the best way to do that was to leave suddenly without offering anyone an explanation and to never contact anyone from his New York life again.”

A moment of stunned silence followed his words. Without looking up, Kurt knew Blaine’s eyes were widened in disbelief.

“He- You never saw him again?” Blaine stammered. He sounded almost angry. “He left while you were out, snuck out behind your back, and never spoke to you again? Never explained himself?”

Knowing Blaine’s eyes were still fixed on him, Kurt nodded. Blaine made a small, appalled noise, and Kurt added, “Apparently our four year relationship meant nothing to him. He didn’t care enough about me to be worried about how I might have been affected by what he’d done.”

“He was a coward,” Blaine said sharply, his voice thick with detest.

Kurt nodded his agreement, slumped back in his seat, and finally looked at Blaine. The other man sat stiffly on the couch, his eyes bright with his disgust. “It took me months to realise that; to stop blaming myself.”

Blaine made a small movement, a slight twitching of his hands and upper body as though he made to get up but changed his mind. His expression shifted. “Is this why Rachel doesn’t really like me?”

“It’s not that she doesn’t like you,” Kurt disagreed, “she’s just become overly cautious and suspicious of any guy she doesn’t know whom I’ve become friends with since Liam. Not that there’s been many guys,” he added as an afterthought.

Blaine nodded and Kurt fidgeted in the silence that followed.

“Rachel worries about me a lot,” Kurt blurted out, needing to break the silence and make sure Blaine understood she wasn’t targeting him and he shouldn’t feel uncomfortable living with her. “I haven’t really been the same since Liam left and that concerns her. Over the last couple of months she’s tried to set me up with guys she knows, tried to break me out of the cycle I’ve gotten into of working and sleeping, but I haven’t been interested in any of those guys, and-” He met Blaine’s eyes. “You’re the first guy who I haven’t met through Rachel who I’ve become friends with since Liam and it worries her that she doesn’t know you. She’s just trying to protect me.”

Blaine stared at him for a moment, his expression unreadable. “So you’re saying she doesn’t trust me?”

“I-” Kurt stopped the automatic reassurance that this wasn’t the case which immediately rose to his lips. He didn’t want to feebly deny what he knew to be the truth, not to Blaine, not when it was obvious that, at this point in time, Rachel did not fully trust Blaine. There was nothing to be gained from denying the obvious.

“What matters is that I trust you,” he said softly.

Blaine’s mouth opened and then closed again. Kurt felt himself becoming hot around his neck and he leaned forward to straighten the already neat pile of sketches, needing to do something other than blush under Blaine’s heavy gaze. He was acutely aware of the set of his mouth and the position of his hands as he sat back in his chair, no longer having a valid reason to tidy his sketches. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so awkward or self-conscious.

Blaine was wearing a small smile when he finally looked up, the lines of his face soft.

“That’s what matters to me,” Blaine agreed softly.

The flush covering Kurt’s cheeks deepened, and he internally cursed his burning face – why did he still blush like a teenager around this man?

Kurt had no idea how to respond to this and so another period of silence followed. It felt like the air in the room was humming with some kind of electricity and one word or movement from either of them could be enough to set off a spark. Kurt found himself holding his breath, waiting for the flicker of that spark. He was hyperaware of each tiny movement Blaine made, of every shift of his expression. He studied Blaine’s face over and over again, as if he were a page in a book he’d been told to memorise. He could see Blaine was waiting, too, hesitating on the verge of taking the plunge, of seeing if the spark would ignite.

Keys jingled in the hallway and one slid into the lock. Blaine dragged his eyes away from Kurt to look round at the front door just as it swung open, snapping the thickly hanging tension and fizzling out the electricity.

With his heart sinking in disappointment, Kurt watched Rachel stride into the apartment swinging her purse, clearly in a good mood.

“Afternoon!” she sang, beaming at them and making a beeline for her room. As she passed the kitchen she began singing one of the songs from her current production at the top of her lungs. Kurt winced a little as her voice pierced the air; she could not have picked a worse moment to waltz in and start singing.

Blaine stared after her as her voice, mercifully, faded. “Does she ever pipe down?”

His question was most likely rhetorical, but Kurt answered anyway. “Rarely,” he said grimly. When Blaine’s gaze returned to his face, he shifted nervously in his chair. “Do you want to do a bit more research?” he asked, valiantly trying to prevent the awkwardness he could sense from settling in. “I was thinking about looking into experimental time travel and seeing if-”

“I want to go to my house.”

Cutting himself off mid-speech, Kurt stared at Blaine, his brain slowly trying and failing to make sense of what he’d just heard.

“You- What?”

Blaine swallowed, uncertainty creeping into his expression. “I want to visit my old house,” he repeated hesitantly. “Where I lived back in my own time.”

Kurt’s mouth fell open, his mouth shaping several responses, though no sound escaped his throat. He hadn’t expected this. Sure, he had briefly thought Blaine may be curious about the futures of himself or his family, but learning or fiddling around with your own future was something that had been drilled into him as fundamentally wrong from all the time travel fiction he’d come across. Whenever he’d wondered if this was something Blaine would wish to do he’d debated whether it was something he’d want if their positions were reversed – if he could learn what his future would be like, what he’d achieve in his life, would he want to know? The idea scared him – what if he didn’t achieve any of his dreams or died young? He wouldn’t want to spend the rest of his life haunted by what was to come. But on the other hand, he would possibly have the knowledge to change things, if he wanted. He always ended up pushing the idea from his mind at this point, telling himself Blaine would never want to learn of his future.

And now here they were.

“You- You want to go to your house?” Kurt said, needing the confirmation to make sure Blaine was actually being serious.

He was. There wasn’t a twitch of mouth or mischievous sparkle in his eyes to betray him as joking. He wanted to do this, wanted to enter the territory Kurt had desperately been turning a blind eye to in the hopes that Blaine felt the same way and didn’t want to know what had become of his life in the ninety-one years he’d skipped forward.

Blaine seemed to know what Kurt was thinking. “I know I probably shouldn’t and I know I’m entering dangerous waters here, but I almost feel like I have to go. For the past few days I’ve been filled with this burning curiosity to know what my house is like today, to see some part of my old life.” He shook his head, his eyes apologetic. “I’ve tried to ignore it, but I just can’t.” His voice lifted hopefully. “Maybe there’s something there that will explain why I’m here or how I can get back.”

He was fishing, they both knew it.

Blaine’s shoulders slumped. “I doubt that,” he admitted in a low, dispirited voice. “But I still wish to go.”

Kurt was torn. He hated seeing Blaine so down and didn’t want to refuse him something he wanted so badly, but he was worried, scared of entering this side of time travel. And what if, after seeing his house, Blaine was tempted to learn more? What if this didn’t quench his curiosity of the ninety-one years he’d missed, but fuelled it?

Kurt bit his lip. “I don’t know, Blaine…”

Blaine’s slightly desperate eyes searched Kurt’s face for a moment, and then he nodded slowly, looking disheartened. “I know why you’re worried about this, but I just want to see what became of the house, that’s all.” He paused. “But if it’s something you really think I shouldn’t do, then I won’t. We can just forget about this.”

Rubbing at the skin beneath his left eye Kurt bit back a sigh of frustration. A battle raged inside him, his fear at looking too much into Blaine’s future fighting with his desire to please Blaine and the voice in his head assuring him they were only looking at a house, it wouldn’t affect anything.

“Ok,” he heard himself say as if from a distance.

Blaine’s body lifted from its slumped position. “Are you sure?” he asked hesitantly.

Kurt wasn’t, not completely. He was still scared and not totally convinced this wouldn’t result in Blaine knowing too much. “I’m sure,” he said.

~ * ~

After a quick search on the internet they discovered that Blaine’s house was no longer the residence of a single family. Some forty years ago it had been converted into a guest house, a small hotel of sorts. In spite of this, Blaine still wanted to visit the house, even though it probably wouldn’t look much like the place he called home.

They travelled there the following day, Kurt printing out a map from the internet and using it to navigate their way out of the city and into the suburbs where the traffic lessened and the greenery increased. Like the city itself, the area was a disorientating mix of familiar and foreign to Blaine. New buildings had popped up over the years and others had replaced the ones he remembered, but when they turned down the road he lived on he found it surprisingly similar to how he knew it from his time.

The large, manor houses were all still there, their expansive yards still neatly manicured and bursting with autumn colours. From what he could see, not many of them were used as single family homes anymore, but had instead been turned into apartment complexes or exclusive guest houses. They came to a stop outside one of these guest houses and Blaine’s heart pounded as he looked up the long drive of his home.

From the outside it hadn’t changed all that much: the driveway had been altered to accommodate parking for more cars, signs had been put up to advertise it as a luxurious guest house, more flowerbeds and hedges had been added, and it looked like the windows and door had been changed. But other than that it was still the same.

The air seemed to dry up in Blaine’s lungs, he could only stare speechlessly at the house.

“Has it changed much?” Kurt asked tentatively some time later. 

Blaine forced his thoughts away from imagining what his bedroom looked like now, what stood in place of his beloved piano, whether books still rested on shelves in the library. 

It wouldn’t do him any good to think about such things and all these thoughts were irrelevant anyway – it wasn’t his home anymore.

He looked away from an upstairs window, focusing his gaze upon the garages instead, somewhere that didn’t make him feel as though he was looking into the soul of the house.

“From the outside: not much,” he replied. They’d changed the garage doors, as well, he noticed. “I doubt the same can be said for the inside.”

Feeling Kurt’s eyes on him, he looked round and met the other man’s thoughtful gaze.

“We could spend a night here, if you want?” Kurt offered. “Then you could see inside, as well.”

“No!” Blaine blurted immediately. When Kurt blinked in surprise, he added, “Sorry, I just don’t think I could- I don’t think I’d want to see-” He couldn’t put into words how he didn’t think he could handle actually being inside the house, walking the corridors like a ghost and remembering what had once been.

Kurt seemed to understand. “Ok,” he said. “It’s ok. It was just a suggestion.”

They stared at the house in silence for another long moment. Blaine wasn’t sure what he was feeling as he watched the shrubbery by the front door ruffle in the breeze. It all felt oddly more real now that he was seeing the place that was once his home, like the past couple of weeks had been something from the pages of one of the novels he liked to read, so detailed it was like he’d been sucked through the paper into the fictitious world. Seeing something from his time, something so personal to him, was the final driving nail in the coffin and he knew exactly where he was and what he had left behind.

For the first time since he’d arrived in the future he felt a pang of longing for his parents. Disappointed and pressuring though they were, he missed them, and now that it no longer felt like he was on some sort of trip, he wished he were back home with them.

The thrill of the adventure he was experiencing was starting to wear off, and Blaine wanted to go home.

He turned sharply away from the house. “Let’s go,” he mumbled.

Kurt scurried after him as he strode along the street, determinedly keeping his gaze fixed straight ahead of him, not trusting himself to look at the houses either side of him. He could sense Kurt’s desire to say something, probably to question the abruptness of their departure from the house or the tightness of Blaine’s expression, but Blaine wasn’t ready to talk, not yet. Kurt apparently sensed this and remained silent, for which Blaine was grateful.

The sun was setting as they made the slow journey back to Kurt’s apartment. The salt-sprinkle of stars was beginning to appear in the pink and red streaked sky. Soon they would only just be discernible through the glow of the city which washed out the night sky. Despite being less visible than they were in 1923, they were still the same stars.

Blaine sighed as they stepped onto the subway, busy with people heading into the city for the evening. As the train lurched into motion, he turned to Kurt.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, leaning close to Kurt, consciously aware of the people around them who could be listening. “I’m only just now realising I may not be able to go home or it may be a long time until I do.” He braced his legs as the train slowed down to stop at a station. “Seeing the house brought up a longing for home, the first I’ve really had since arriving here and it was just-” He shook his head. “I don’t know what I was expecting when we went there today, but I’ve just had a big reality check.”

Placing a hand on his arm, Kurt gave him a small smile. “It’s ok.”

They remained quiet for the rest of the journey and it was only when the door of Kurt’s apartment was closed behind them that Kurt met Blaine’s eyes and said gravely: “You know I’ll do everything I can to get you home, don’t you?”

Blaine nodded numbly, caught in the intensity of Kurt’s gaze. “I know,” he whispered.

Kurt surveyed him for a moment. “I don’t know how you’re handling this so well. If I was in your situation I would have broken down by now. You have a lot of courage, Blaine.”

Blaine swallowed around his dry throat. Kurt’s eyes were somehow both soft yet intense, like they were seeing right into the very core of Blaine’s being, and were doing so fondly. 

The memory of Kurt’s lips skimming his own in the lightest of touches flashed through his mind, and he sucked in a shaky breath, before dredging up all his will power and looking away. He shouldn’t get too close to Kurt, not when he didn’t belong in this world.

He vehemently ignored the voice in his head that told him he already was too close.

Kurt cleared his throat. “How much do you want to know of the future?” he asked. His voice sounded a little odd. When Blaine looked up with a questioning look, he added, “Do you want to know about yours or your family’s future?”

“Oh.” Blaine took in the hesitant worry in Kurt’s expression, the slight tightness around his mouth. He thought about what he had the power to learn – he could know every monumental event that happens in his life – and he thought about how that would affect him. His life would become predictable, the joy and excitement muted from already knowing what was going to happen and when. And who wanted to know their own death date? Who wanted to have that ticking clock hanging over their head for the rest of their life? As for his family: if he knew how their lives would turn out he would feel guilty not telling them and he didn’t want to torment them with the choice of learning their future. He didn’t want to become some horrifyingly accurate fortune teller.

He shook his head at Kurt. “No, I don’t want to know anything about the lives of myself or anyone I know.” Kurt nodded, the relief evident on his face. “It’s not like I could change anything by knowing – what’s true now is set in stone, isn’t it?”

Kurt’s forehead crinkled in thought for a second. “Yeah, I guess it would be.”

Blaine looked at him thoughtfully. “Would I even remember anything I learnt or will I forget it all when I return?”

Kurt met his gaze, something shifting behind his eyes, and Blaine froze, a sudden realisation hitting him. He may forget about all of this when he returned to his own time; he may forget all about Kurt. The thought was like an iron clamp twisting at his heart.

“If you do remember you may influence the future with your knowledge of it,” Kurt joked in a strained voice.

Blaine forced a laugh. “I couldn’t cheat like that.”

They moved onto lighter conversation topics as they prepared dinner together. Blaine tried to ignore the lingering thoughts from their conversation now planted in the back of his mind, nagging him constantly like a persistent itch under his skin. It had all seemed simple before: he would find out how he travelled here and how he could return home again, but now it was anything but. Now he had the worry he would lose everything from his time in this year when he returned, the fear he would lose one of the best people to enter his life. Now he had the fear returning home would mean losing Kurt and all his memories of him.


	7. Chapter 7

Though the conversation had ended hours ago and despite Blaine saying he didn’t want to learn about his future, Kurt couldn’t stop thinking about it as he lay in bed that night. Now that the subject had been brought up he kept imagining all the different possibilities for Blaine’s future, both the good and the bad. He was relieved Blaine didn’t want to know about the rest of his life, if only for his own selfish reasons. He didn’t think he could bear it if he knew Blaine had an unhappy life ahead of him, because there was every chance this could be the case. Blaine had been unhappy before he travelled to Kurt’s time, disease was more common in the twenties with medicine being less advanced, and another war was on the horizon, one in which Blaine may be required to fight. The very thought was enough to make Kurt feel sick.

Of course, Blaine equally may have a bright, happy future ahead of him, but Kurt’s mind kept circling back to the negatives and these thoughts lingered in his head like some slow-acting poison sending despair trickling through his veins. There was no way of knowing for sure unless they actually looked into things which neither he nor Blaine wanted. Call him selfish or a coward but he would rather not know what happened in Blaine’s life when he returned to his own time.

With a groan of frustration, Kurt rolled over and punched his pillow into a more comfortable shape and tried to let sleep engulf him. But as comfortable as he was and despite tiredness prickling in his eyes, he couldn’t fall asleep. The one thing he’d never been able to do was switch his mind off, it was one of the reasons he could be found awake and sketching out new designs at two in the morning, and now he was stuck with his own thoughts until his mind exhausted itself enough to sleep.

Kurt got up the next morning feeling unrested. He sighed as he noticed the puffy bags under his eyes and dabbed some cream on them in the hopes they would disappear before he had to leave for work. To his surprise he found Blaine struggling with the toaster when he went through to the kitchen. He smiled fondly as Blaine fumbled with the buttons on top of the toaster.

“Here,” he said, stepping in and pressing the right button so that the bread began to toast.

Blaine shot him a grateful smile. “Thank you. I wanted to make you breakfast, but I guess I haven’t got the hang of this modern technology yet.”

Kurt blinked at him. “You’re making breakfast?” 

Blaine nodded, peering at the toaster for a moment before picking up a knife and chopping the bananas on the board in front of him. “I thought it would be a nice change for you instead of having to grab something quick before you leave.” He looked rather pleased with himself as he placed the chopped fruit on a plate.

“Oh, thank you.” Kurt stood back to let Blaine finish preparing their meal, trying not to watch the way the muscles in his arms flexed.

He hadn’t had someone make him breakfast like this in months, not since the very early days of moving in with Liam, and it was nice. His fingers itched to do something to help out, especially when Blaine fought with some of the appliances, but he could tell how much Blaine wanted to do this by himself so he took a seat at the table and let himself be waited on.

“Breakfast is served.” Blaine placed a plate in front of Kurt with a flourish.

He looked so pleased with himself, a small smile on his face and eyes bright as he watched Kurt eat his breakfast from under his lashes; Kurt’s heart warmed at the sight.

Blaine had been doing more chores and little things like helping make meals lately as his way of helping to repay Kurt for letting him stay, but this was the first time he’d gotten up early to make breakfast.

“You didn’t have to do this,” Kurt said, stabbing a strawberry half with his fork.

Blaine swallowed. “I wanted to,” he said simply. “And, Kurt, you know I feel bad staying here without paying you or anything. I don’t have the money to pay you, so I want to help out; I want to do some of the cooking.” He lowered his gaze to his plate again. “Besides, I like cooking for you.”

Kurt watched Blaine push the last few pieces of fruit around on his plate, lost for words. Blaine was just so sweet and Kurt was finding it harder and harder to look past his compliments, bashful smiles, and endearing actions. Since Blaine had told him his story Kurt had been determined to keep his mind strictly on the friendship track when he was around him, but he honestly wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep everything he was feeling bottled up inside him, especially with the memories of their two dates and near-kiss haunting him.

Still at a loss of what to really say, Kurt eventually smiled and just thanked Blaine again, before quickly eating the last few bites of his breakfast and getting to his feet.

“I’d better get going,” he said, glancing at the kitchen clock on his way to dump his plate in the sink. “You going to do some more research?”

On the days when Kurt had work Blaine had been continuing to do research on time travel. He had grasped the concepts of the internet and often spent the day in the apartment searching through endless articles and webpages. He’d also visited a local library once or twice, flicking through books on current scientific research and experimentation, and on anything about time travel. With it being a subject mostly considered fictitious, he’d made little progress, but they both kept reminding themselves that Blaine had gotten here somehow and the information had to be out there somewhere; they just had to keep looking.

Every day Kurt returned home from work feeling half-hopeful Blaine had found a new lead and half-worried he was a step closer to returning home. He was always guiltily relieved when Blaine would shake his head and tell him he’d found nothing, torn between wanting his friend to be able to return home to his family and selfishly wishing the man he was becoming increasingly fond of would remain here with him.

Scooping up his brown leather satchel, Kurt watched Blaine gather up his dirty dishes, turning over an idea contemplatively in his mind. “How about we get lunch together today?” he suggested. He mentally ran through his schedule for the day and nodded to himself – he’d have time to go to a nearby café. “There’s a nice little café not far from my work; we could meet there at one. Give you a break from all your research.”

Blaine had frozen halfway between the table and the sink, his eyes lit up at Kurt’s suggestion in a way Kurt tried not to think about too much. A smile tugged at the corners of Blaine’s mouth.

“That sounds swell, Kurt. I’d love to,” he said enthusiastically.

Smiling brightly, Kurt hitched the strap of his satchel up his shoulder. “Great!” He quickly gave Blaine the café’s name and address, hoping there were no delays on the subway to make him late. “I’ll see you at one!” he called over his shoulder as he neared the front door.

“Have a nice day, Kurt!” he heard Blaine reply.

A gentle warmth washed through Kurt’s body as he left the apartment and headed for the elevator. He hadn’t had someone wish him a nice day in years: Rachel was either already up and away or asleep and Liam had always been still asleep when he’d been leaving for the day. He could get used to hearing Blaine say it every morning.

He spent the morning counting down the hours until his lunch break. It was ridiculous and irrational that he should be yearning to see Blaine again after only a few hours apart, but the desire filled him as the morning went by and it was with an excited eagerness that he left for the café just before one o’clock. His heart soared and a smile bloomed on his face when he spotted Blaine leaning against the wall by the café’s doors, looking far too handsome in his sweater and bowtie.

“Hey, you,” Kurt greeted him when he was within earshot. He stopped a foot or so away from Blaine, struggling with the sudden, strong desire to hug him.

If Blaine noticed the awkwardness beginning to creep into the air, he didn’t show it. His eyes crinkled up in Kurt’s favourite bright smile of his. “Good afternoon. How was your morning?”

“Busy,” Kurt replied as he and Blaine entered the café, the delicious scent of coffee and freshly-baked bread hitting him when Blaine held the door open. “We’re right in the middle of finalising all the designs for the spring collection and after the success of the year’s collections so far my boss is nit-picking over the tiniest of details.” He ran his eyes contemplatively over the menu on the wall behind the counter. “It’s a relief to get away from it all for lunch, actually.”

Blaine had been watching him as he spoke, but he now turned to examine the menu as well. “It sounds stressful.”

Kurt hummed in agreement. “It is, but I’m more than used to it. Once you learn to prioritise, multi-task, and the art of shutting yourself off to the chaos around you while you work on designs it’s bearable.”

They shuffled further along the counter towards the registers with the rest of the line, still gazing up at the menu.

“Have you decided what you want yet?” Kurt asked as they neared the front of the line.

Blaine nodded. “I think I’m just going to get a sandwich.”

Kurt glanced at him briefly. “Do you want coffee as well?”

“No, thank you. I’ll just have some water.”

Kurt’s eyes narrowed at Blaine’s swift refusal. “You don’t have to have the cheapest thing on the menu, you know.”

Blaine turned away from the menu to look back at Kurt with wide eyes. “I’m not-”

“Blaine, the little money you have left is useless here; if I hadn’t given you a room and wasn’t paying for your meals you’d be starving on the streets,” Kurt pointed out gently. 

Blaine lowered his gaze to the floor. Kurt placed a hand under his chin and tilted his head back up again so their eyes met; Blaine’s were full of shame. “But it’s ok. I want to help you and it’s not causing any harm to me to do so.” He removed his hand from Blaine’s chin and rested it on his shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. “You’re my friend and I’m only doing what I’d do for any of my other friends: help them out during tough times. You’re actually doing most of the chores and stuff; you’ve got me out of the rut I was stuck in of doing nothing but working and sleeping, so you don’t need to feel guilty all the time.”

Blaine bit his lip and nodded, moving forward with the line again as another customer was served and stepped away from the counter.

“And besides,” Kurt added, glancing sideways at Blaine, “you made me breakfast this morning, so it’s only fair I treat you to lunch.” He grinned at Blaine as he stepped forward to place his order. He hoped Blaine now understood Kurt wasn’t going out of his way to help him or that he should feel he owes Kurt for everything he was doing for him. He knew this wasn’t easy for Blaine to accept, and he knew he would feel the same if he were in Blaine’s position, but he just wanted Blaine to stop feeling so guilty and to stop holding back on what he really wanted because he felt bad about using Kurt’s charity for it.

Scooping up the tray of his coffee and salad, Kurt scanned the busy café for a free table, gently nudging Blaine’s side when he spotted one against the back wall that had just finished being cleaned.

“I’m gonna go grab us that table,” he said, nodding his head in its direction. Blaine nodded in acknowledgement and Kurt wove his way through the tables and chairs to the free table, setting his tray down and dropping down into the chair with a contented sigh.

Blaine joined him moments later, carrying his lunch on another tray. “It sure is busy here,” he observed as he sat down across from Kurt.

Kurt’s eyes wandered around the crowded café, packed with people from the local businesses and friends out for lunch together. “There are lots of tower blocks full of office workers within walking distance of here,” he replied. “Plus the food is really good.”

Blaine grinned at him as he picked up his sandwich. “You’ve told me that at least twice now so I guess I’d better see for myself.” He bit into his sandwich, holding Kurt’s gaze as he chewed and swallowed.

Kurt raised his eyebrows questioningly. “And what’s the verdict?”

“Delicious,” Blaine enthused, taking another bite. He swallowed. “You were right.”

“Of course I was,” Kurt said sassily with a teasing smile.

Blaine’s eyes remained on him as he turned his attention to his salad and he felt the other man’s gaze frequently return to him almost as if he found it impossible to not look at Kurt. And Kurt couldn’t help but peek up at Blaine through his lashes or lift his gaze to meet Blaine’s warm eyes, to return his soft smile with one of his own.

The conversation between them didn’t falter once throughout the whole meal. For the first time since Blaine had moved in with Kurt they talked about the things they didn’t know about each other, discussing childhood memories, phases they had gone through, and places they had visited. It all felt so much like a date, Kurt found it almost painful to sit across from Blaine and watch him talk enthusiastically about a symphony he’d once seen, waving his hands around more and more the deeper he got into the story; to see the way his hazel eyes lit up to a bright gold and his smile crinkle the skin at the corner of his eyes and not be able to reach over and take his hand or kiss him whenever the mood struck him. It was like a special form of torture to be able to see the light freckles dotted on Blaine’s nose and not be able to kiss them when they wrinkled up in his laughter. And whenever Blaine told him another story or laughed at something he said, Kurt felt another dollop of something sweet and warm swirl into his belly, filling him with an adoring fondness for the curly-haired man, the kind that not only flowed through Kurt’s veins, but penetrated his bones and soaked into his very being.

It was only when Blaine pulled out his pocket watch to check the time and another large dose of warmth flowed pleasantly into Kurt’s belly did he realise what this all meant.

He was falling for Blaine. He had been falling for him slowly and steadily for days, but it was only now that he noticed the rush of air past him and the frantic, exhilarated beat of his heart. It was only now with his landing site in view that he realised he’d gone beyond the initial attraction and crush he’d had during their coffee mornings and few dates. Somewhere between then and now he’d tumbled off the cliff edge and was falling. It was terrifying and thrilling all at once. And though his head was reminding him Blaine would soon be gone from him for good and was advising him to catch himself before his fall ended and he hit the bottom, his heart was telling him to enjoy the fall and hold Blaine Anderson and never let him go.

~ * ~

With Rachel out for the evening performing in her show on Broadway, Blaine and Kurt were treated to an apartment to themselves for the first evening in several days. Before dinner they discussed the option of taking advantage of Rachel’s absence and spending the evening going through all the information on time travel they had collected so far, but after lingering over their meal they both found themselves too full and drowsy to feel like doing anything other than lounging on the couch and watching a movie.

Blaine insisted Kurt choose the movie, pointing out that he knew next to nothing about movies and truly wouldn’t know which one to choose, and they settled down on the couch to watch one of Kurt’s favourites.

Blaine wasn’t sure how long the movie had been playing for when he became aware he and Kurt were subconsciously moving closer together. During the opening scenes they had been sitting at nearly opposite ends of the three-seat couch but now there were only inches between them.

He honestly did not remember moving, and wondered if it was partly due to the slight chill in the air from the window someone had opened earlier and had forgotten to close, causing him to unconsciously seek Kurt’s warmth, or if it was due in part to the magnetic pull that seemed to exist between himself and Kurt, drawing them close to each other whenever they were together. Whatever the reason behind it was, he couldn’t move away without Kurt noticing; not that he wanted to.

Now that he was aware of how close he was to Kurt he couldn’t help but watch the other man out the corner of his eye. He felt an inexplicable stomach-curling need as he watched the way the light from the TV screen accentuated the slight upturned curve of Kurt’s nose, the angle of his cheekbones, and the plump bow of his lips; lips that had brushed his own in the fleetest of touches like the flutter of a butterfly’s wings. The memory of that moment had been springing up in his mind more regularly recently and Blaine felt a mixture of longing and guilt whenever he relived it. He wanted more, wanted a proper kiss, not just a taste of one, but he had no idea if Kurt felt the same. After all, getting romantically involved with Kurt wasn’t at all good idea.

Tearing his eyes away from Kurt’s lips, he tried to focus on the movie again, though he’d missed a key scene while he’d been distracted by Kurt and was lost as to what was currently happening. How odd that even with something as extraordinary as a TV playing a movie in front of him, something he’d never seen before coming here and which he should be finding jaw-droppingly amazing, he would much rather look at the man sitting next to him. But then to Blaine Kurt was the most fascinating sight he’d seen in not only this era but his own time as well. He found Kurt constantly interesting and could watch him perform simple, mundane tasks, such as tying his shoe laces, for ages with a fond fascination. And Kurt was beautiful with his smooth, pale skin, sparkling blue eyes, and dimple-inducing smiles, and Blaine never tired of looking at the world’s beauty.

Unable to help himself, he glanced over at Kurt again to find him watching him with a soft smile on his face. Their eyes met and something shifted in the air between them, a tangible tension hanging over them. Blaine’s heart raced, his breath quickened, and their surroundings – the movie continuing to play in the background, the rumble of traffic drifting in through the open window, the flickering of a lamp in the corner – all fell away into nothingness as his world centred on Kurt. Every one of Blaine’s senses became focused on Kurt: he was hyperaware of every tiny movement or sound he made: the slight twitch of his hand in his lap, the small hitch in his breathing when Blaine leaned closer, the dilating of his pupils. He could feel Kurt’s breath on his cheek: warm, uneven puffs of air that sent micro-shivers down his spine.

The chill that had once been in the air dissipated and the heat began to near too much – how had Blaine never noticed the warmth radiating from Kurt’s body, the heat that seeped into his knee where their legs touched?

Kurt’s lips parted and his eyes flickered down to Blaine’s mouth. Blaine couldn’t think straight; his brain was a buzz of white noise, almost deafening under the loud thrumming of his pulse. It was only when Kurt’s lips were inches from his own and his hand was resting on Blaine’s thigh that the white noise warped into a thought that was crystal clear.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Blaine breathed, surprising himself at not only his ability to talk but to voice his biggest fear as his brain short circuited from Kurt’s closeness and his heart screamed at him to kiss the man he craved.

Kurt pulled back enough to stare at him, a flicker of rejection in his eyes.

“I don’t want to walk out of your life and leave you broken-hearted and alone. I don’t want to be another Liam,” Blaine explained.

Kurt was still staring at him and Blaine’s heart screamed at him to shut up and forget about all of this.

“Because I don’t belong here, Kurt,” Blaine continued. “Someday soon I’m going to go back to my own time and we’re never going to be able to see each other again.”

A rush of despair threatened to rear up inside Blaine, but he pushed it down forcibly; he wouldn’t break down in front of Kurt.

“What if I don’t care?” Kurt whispered. Blaine stared at him surprise: determination and resolve had hardened his eyes and set his jaw. “What if I no longer want to lock away my true feelings and avoid getting close to another guy for fear of getting hurt again? What if I’m sick of playing it safe and sticking to what I know? What if I want to start following my heart again?”

Blaine was rendered speechless. Kurt wanted to change the way he’d been living – keeping his heart close to his chest – for him. And if he’d heard correctly, he wanted to forget all about the obstacles, forget everything that was working against them, and have a romantic relationship. As much as Blaine wished he could let all his fears go, the thought of Liam and of Kurt being hurt again was gnawing at him.

“But I won’t be staying here for long,” he protested weakly, his voice strained.

Kurt said nothing at first, reaching for Blaine’s hand and linking their fingers together instead. Blaine looked down at their joined hands and his stomach gave a funny squeeze at how good and right it looked: Kurt’s long, pale fingers slotted between his own smaller, tanned ones.

“Blaine…”

Blaine lifted his head to find Kurt gazing at him. His steely determination was gone, replaced by a warm look of adoration that made Blaine’s stomach flutter and his heart jolt.

“I know you can’t stay here,” Kurt continued, “but the pain when you leave will be heart-breaking whether we remain as friends or become something more, but you’re worth the pain and I’d rather spend the time we have together being together than denying what we really feel.”

Blaine didn’t know what to say. Kurt’s eyes were searching his, waiting for a response, but all Blaine could do was whisper Kurt’s name on a soft exhale of breath.

“Kurt…” 

It was enough. Whether it was the desperate longing in Blaine’s eyes or the pure need and wonder in his voice when he’d said Kurt’s name, Kurt was satisfied with this response and seemed to understand everything he was thinking about without him having to voice it. Kurt leaned back in and pressed his lips to Blaine’s, softly at first, but then with more force when Blaine responded. Blaine inhaled deeply through his nose as Kurt’s hand came up to rest on his cheek, cupping his face. Blaine leant into the touch, tilting his head to one side and deepening the kiss.

Whenever Blaine had thought and dreamt about his first kiss he’d imagined it would be short and shy and sweet, he didn’t ever think it would be like this: his hands fisted in the front of Kurt’s shirt, one of Kurt’s hands on his back and the other caressing his face, as they gasped hot breaths into each other’s mouths. It wasn’t what he’d imagined, but it was somehow everything he had hoped for.

Turning his head to the side and panting slightly, Blaine broke the kiss. He rested his forehead against Kurt’s, keeping his eyes closed and soaking in the feeling of being so close to him.

“I never dreamt someone like you existed,” Blaine whispered. Kurt’s hand, which he had dropped from Blaine’s face, stroked the length of Blaine’s forearm before he twined their fingers together again. “I didn’t think I could have this or that I would ever feel this way about someone.”

Kurt tilted his head and caught Blaine’s lips in another quick kiss. “I’m so glad you chose to stop me in the street,” he murmured.

Blaine smiled as Kurt nuzzled their noses together, the bubble of happiness swelling up so large inside of him he felt like he could float. He felt so overwhelmingly elated and loved that he forgot time was against them and these feelings couldn’t last. He forgot there was a ninety-one year time gap waiting to prick and burst their happy bubble.


	8. Chapter 8

Nothing really changed between them after that evening they got together. The only difference now was that they were free to act on their impulses and express their feelings towards each other. They could greet each other with a kiss on the cheek in the mornings, hold hands whenever the mood struck them, and cuddle up together on the couch instead of watching each other longingly from a distance. Kurt now stood behind Blaine while he washed the dishes, slipped his arms around his tiny waist and nuzzled at the back of his neck, his cool nose brushing Blaine’s curls and nudging at his earlobe. Blaine was able to peck Kurt on the lips as Kurt left for work in the mornings, press a chaste kiss to the corner of Kurt’s mouth, then another on his lips, before wishing Kurt a good day. It all felt so natural and easy, like second nature. Blaine had listened to some of his friends on the polo team complain about how difficult dating was, how hard it was to know the right things to say and do, especially in the early days of a relationship. Blaine didn’t know if it was because he and Kurt had been friends for quite a period before, if it was due to them being more compatible and destined for each other, or if it was simply because they were both men, but he didn’t find it hard to be in a relationship with Kurt at all; it was as easy as breathing.

Something that Blaine took great delight in now was calling the lunchtimes he spent with Kurt ‘dates’. And they were now a regular occurrence. Each weekday Blaine would take a break from doing his research and head over to Kurt’s work for the start of his lunch break. Then, they would either go to a nearby café together or, on nicer days, walk over to the park nearby to eat a picnic lunch that Blaine had prepared. And these were nothing like the dates his friends used to talk about: no formal, awkward dinners at restaurants, no stiffly polite conversations during walks through a park, none of the scrutiny of relatives while joining the dates’ family for tea or a meal. These dates were filled with laughter over stories from Kurt’s morning at work or something Blaine had stumbled upon in a book or online, Kurt stealing bites of food from Blaine’s plate and then kissing away Blaine’s feeble protests, and Blaine resting his head on Kurt’s shoulder as they watched the world go by. Blaine felt like he was on cloud nine, and his continuing research into time travel turned into feeling like something he was doing out of pure interest only, fuelled by his curiosity of how he got here and not his desire to return home.

They decided to tell Rachel they were together as soon as it was possible to do so. After not checking with her if it was ok for Blaine to move in and keeping the truth about Blaine from her, they both felt she deserved to know right away. But with Rachel leading such a busy life filled with her performances, parties, and other social events, she was hardly home long enough for them to have a proper conversation with her. On the nights she wasn’t staying with friends or Finn she returned home late and tired, heading straight for bed within minutes of arriving, and she was always up and gone before Kurt and Blaine were up in the mornings. So it wasn’t until the following Sunday when Rachel had the day off that they had the chance to tell her.

She had just arrived back from brunch with Finn, looking relaxed and happy as she dropped her purse on the coffee table and sat down in the armchair, facing Kurt and Blaine on the couch, talking a mile a minute as she told Kurt how his step-brother was doing and how much he was helping one particular kid in one of his classes at the high school where he taught. Blaine sat and listened politely, feeling on-edge and incredibly nervous while he waited for Rachel’s story to finish and for them to get a chance to tell her. Rachel was Kurt’s best friend and he desperately wanted her to approve of their relationship. He knew she hadn’t been too sure of his trustworthiness to start with, but he was hoping her views of him had changed now they had been living together for a while and gotten to know each other better.

When Rachel’s description of how wonderful Finn was came to an end, Kurt shot Blaine a loaded look, an eyebrow raised in question, checking that he was ready. Blaine nodded.

“Rachel,” Kurt began before she got the chance to start talking about something else.

Rachel’s eyes lit up with curiosity and she leant forwards slightly in her seat, a forearm resting on the arm of the chair. Her eyebrows were drawn together into a tiny questioning frown as she picked up on the seriousness of Kurt’s tone.

“We have something we want to tell you,” Kurt continued. Blaine felt bad for leaving all the talking to him, but whenever he so desperately wanted a particular outcome for something he tended to stiffen up and become tongue-tied as his thoughts jumbled up into a tight ball he couldn’t unravel. Right now he was only capable of stammering his way through a nervous ramble that would never get to the point while he blushed and sweated under Rachel’s questioning gaze, so he felt it was best Kurt spoke while he sweated and fretted at his side.

Rachel was glancing between them. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Kurt shook his head. “Nothing’s wrong,” he assured her quickly. “Everything is far from wrong.” He exchanged another look with Blaine, this time smiling at him fondly. “Blaine and I are together. We wanted you to be the first to know.”

Confusion settled over Rachel’s face. “Wait, I thought you were already dating? Wasn’t that a date you were on the night I met Blaine?”

Blaine glanced fleetingly at Kurt. “Well…”

“It was,” Kurt agreed. “We went on a few dates around that time, but we’ve never exactly been…” He paused, searching for the right word. “…Exclusive,” he finished.

“We’ve just been friends all this time,” Blaine added. As Rachel hadn’t reacted badly to their news his nerves had abated enough for his mind to unscramble itself from the mess it had become in his worry and he could now form a coherent sentence and help Kurt in explaining their situation. “We didn’t want to jump into things too soon after meeting and we both had our reasons for not wanting our relationship to become romantic too soon, in spite of feelings saying otherwise.”

Rachel nodded slowly, her eyes knowing as she looked at Kurt, understanding his reasons for not wanting to rush into a relationship and seeming to accept that Blaine had reasons of his own. She shot Blaine a meaningful, warning look that Blaine blinked at in confusion; he was sure Rachel would explain later, but right now he had no idea what she was meaning. His nerves rose again, churning unpleasantly in his stomach.

“I can’t say I’m surprised that you’re together,” Rachel said, sitting back in her chair. “I mean, I thought you already were dating, and it’s rather obvious how you two feel about each other.”

Blaine blinked in surprise: he had thought he was being subtle and discrete with his feelings. He was a little bit disappointed that he hadn’t been able to hide them, but, then again, with the exception of one or two men he’d once found attractive, he’d had no practice with being around men he was interested in romantically. He had rather hoped years of pretending to be someone he was not had made him a relatively decent actor, but apparently he was still incapable of hiding how fond he was of Kurt.

“Is it?” Kurt asked, also sounding mildly disappointed.

Rachel turned to him with raised eyebrows and a disbelieving smile, an expression which clearly said ‘really?’

Kurt grumbled under his breath as Rachel’s smile widened, her expression turning smug. Just as Kurt opened his mouth to say something to her, a loud musical sound began playing from beside him, making Blaine jump. Blaine watched with a puzzled curiosity as Kurt turned away from Rachel, muttering indistinguishably as he fumbled for something in his pocket. When he pulled out a slim black rectangle and pressed it to his ear, saying a greeting into it, Blaine realised it was Kurt’s phone that had made the noise – he’d never heard it ringing before.

Blaine stared down into his lap while Kurt spoke on the phone, scratching lightly at the stiff fabric of his new jeans and trying hard not to listen in to Kurt’s phone call whilst also avoiding catching Rachel’s eye – he could feel her gaze on him from time-to-time.

Kurt ended the call after a few minutes, letting out a huff of frustration as he slid his phone back into his pocket.

“Was that your work?” Rachel asked before Kurt had the chance to speak. “Do they want you to go in?”

“Just to drop off some designs,” Kurt replied, getting to his feet. “Some schedules have changed and they need them today otherwise they won’t be ready in time for the next collection’s release.” He looked at Blaine apologetically. “Sorry, I know we had plans, but this won’t take long.”

They didn’t have plans, not really, nothing set in stone anyway, just a few vague suggestions of going to see a show and getting dinner.

“I don’t mind,” Blaine assured him. “Our plans can wait a few hours.”

Kurt took a step backwards towards the hallway. “I’ll only be a couple of hours; we’ll still have time for a show and dinner.”

Once Kurt had disappeared to fetch his designs, Blaine became uncomfortably aware of Rachel’s presence. He’d never been alone with her before, except for a few minutes here and there, and Kurt had still been in the apartment then, but now he was faced with a couple of hours of her company. He thought of the look she’d given him earlier and hoped she had plans of her own and wouldn’t be here wile Kurt was gone. He wasn’t sure he wanted to be alone with her right after she’d learned of his relationship with Kurt.

“Ok, I’m off.” Kurt strode back into the room, now wearing a dark coat and with a large folder tucked under his arm and his satchel hanging off one shoulder. He walked over to where Blaine was still sitting on the couch, hesitated, his eyes flicking briefly over to Rachel, before pressing his lips to Blaine’s in a soft, chaste kiss. “I’ll be back soon.” He waved at Rachel and left, the door closing quietly behind him.

The room suddenly seemed ten times larger and a lot quieter with Kurt gone. Blaine abruptly felt awkward, shifting in his seat and crossing his right leg over his left, still avoiding Rachel’s eye.

“Well, this worked out nicely; I was hoping to get you alone so I could talk to you,” Rachel said brightly, her voice loud in the otherwise silent apartment.

Blaine swallowed nervously, making himself look up at Rachel, not looking forward to whatever was about to come.

Rachel’s expression gave away nothing about the tenor of what she was about to say. There was a smile on her face, which Blaine was sure was deceiving; there had been a mildly threatening undercurrent to the look she’d given him earlier.

“There’s no need to look so nervous,” she said. “I just need to make sure you understand something.”

“About Kurt?” Blaine guessed.

“About Kurt,” Rachel confirmed. Her smile faded, her expression turning serious as she sat forward in her chair again. She paused, seeming to consider Blaine in silence for a moment, her gaze calculative as she studied him. Blaine fought with the urge to fidget under her stare, feeling as though she were strictly judging each tiny movement and expression he made.

“Kurt’s been through a lot,” she began soberly, surprising Blaine who had been expecting harsher words of warning than the soft, almost sad ones she was using. “I don’t know how much he’s told you, but he had a rough time in high school with bullies and then there was the whole thing with his last boyfriend…” She trailed off, her eyes hardening slightly as she continued to watch Blaine closely.

“When Liam left Kurt was a mess; it was heart breaking to witness. To start with he was convinced Liam would return and that they could work out whatever the problem was, then came the horrible period where Kurt blamed himself for him leaving. But the worst time was after that when he sunk into this state of worthlessness and shut a part of himself off from everyone; it was painful to watch.”

Rachel’s eyes, though still fixed upon Blaine, were unfocused, seeing her memories of a deeply hurt and guarded Kurt who avoided the outings with workmates and refused the party invites Rachel offered him which he would have once attended. Blaine had heard enough of what happened with Liam from Kurt to know what had happened and how Kurt had felt afterwards, but hearing it from Rachel’s perspective shone a whole new light on it and supplied him with images of a hurt and betrayed Kurt throwing shields up around himself.

“It was months before he started doing something other than working and sleeping, before I was able to convince him to come out to dinner with myself and a few friends. I worried he might struggle with trusting another man again and tried to set him up with some guys I knew who were nice and genuine and who I trusted not to screw him around, but…” She shook her head, her gaze focusing on Blaine again. “He never showed any interest – until he met you and suddenly he was gushing about a guy again, all giddy and excited in a way I hadn’t seen him in years. And then I saw you two together and he was lit up in a way I don’t think I’ve ever seen before. He was no longer guarded, withdrawn, or pained; he was Kurt.”

Blaine swallowed again, not sure how to respond to this, but before he could decide how best to react, Rachel held up her hands.

“Don’t get me wrong,” she added. “I’m so happy and relieved he’s out of the horrible state he was in, but it’s because of you, and I don’t know you and after everything I just can’t really trust that you won’t hurt Kurt.”

Biting his lip, Blaine nodded. He honestly had no idea what to say. Assurances that he wouldn’t hurt Kurt sounded weak in his own head; nothing he could say now would convince Rachel he could never be like Liam.

Rachel ran a hand through her hair in what appeared to be something close to frustration. “I just need to say this: you better not be messing Kurt around. This better not be a fling to you or a free place to stay while you’re in New York and then as soon as you’re back in Connecticut you ditch him.” There was the slightest apologetic hint to her tone, but otherwise she spoke firmly and with a warning note to her voice. “As his best friend, that’s something I needed to say.”

Blaine shook his head in violent denial. “I’m not messing him around,” he blurted. “I really care about Kurt; you don’t know how much he means to me, how long I’ve been searching for someone like him.” His eyes searched Rachel’s, frantically pleading her to believe him. He couldn’t stand knowing Kurt’s best friend didn’t trust him. He didn’t want someone s close to Kurt to be watching him with narrowed eyes, constantly waiting for him to slip up and prove himself to not be the man he was claiming to be.

“I’m dreading my return to Connecticut,” Blaine continued, his voice thick with emotion. “I hate that it soon won’t be possible for me to see Kurt every day.”

‘Or at all,’ he added in his head, a wave of despair threatening to overwhelm him at the thought.

Rachel sat up a little straighter, her face lit up with interest. “Speaking of which: when exactly are you going back to Connecticut? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say how long you’re in New York for.”

“Uh-” Blaine was lost to panic of not having a clue how to answer her for only a second or two until his brain luckily provided him with a suitable answer.

“I’m not sure how long I’ll be here,” he told her smoothly, once again only twisting the truth instead of inventing a whole new story. “Learning my friend has moved out of state threw my plans off and as I have Kurt in my life now I want to stay here as long as possible, so…” He shrugged.

When he would leave was by far the trickiest question she could have asked him. He couldn’t even guess at a date he may leave on, and with his arrival here being so unpredictable he guessed leaving would be as well. He could be here for another hour or for another ten years – he had no idea, and with no leads on learning about his time travel, he didn’t expect to be able to guess at a leaving date any time soon. And this all posed a rather large problem: Rachel would be expecting a leaving date at some point and if he was still here in a few months with no signs of leaving she would get suspicious, likewise if he suddenly disappeared out of the blue.

And that was another thing: what would Kurt tell Rachel when he did leave and he was never able to contact him again?

Reminding himself to talk to Kurt about that later, Blaine turned his attention back to Rachel as she spoke.

“I thought you were at college? Don’t you have to be back for that?” She frowned as a thought struck her. “Should you even be away from classes now?”

Once again, Blaine thought quickly. “I took this year off to do some travelling.” Hoping to avoid more questions, he added, “I was starting here in New York, but my friend moving and meeting Kurt has thrown a wrench in my plans. I have to return to work in my father’s company at some point, but I’m not sure when that will be yet.”

Rachel nodded, apparently satisfied with his answer and Blaine breathed a silent sigh of relief. She eyed him thoughtfully.

“I didn’t trust you when I first met you, mainly because I didn’t know you and worried you would hurt Kurt, but you’re proving me wrong and I’ll apologise to you every day if you continue to make Kurt as happy as he has been lately. I haven’t seen him this happy in years, not since our early days in New York before Liam started behaving all stiff and indifferent. Kurt didn’t notice these changes. He jumped into the relationship so quickly and when he gives a piece of his heart to someone it’s hard for him to let go,” she explained sorrowfully. Guilt crossed her features, drawing her eyebrows down into a frown. “I wish I’d told him of how Liam was changing instead of placating myself with him being happy and forgetting it all when I got caught up with NYADA. I’d seen how it would end back in the early days of their relationship, could see the risk of Kurt getting hurt, but I shrugged it off and it’s something I deeply regret.” Blaine was startled to see Rachel blinking back tears. He knew she cared deeply for Kurt, but he didn’t realise she blamed herself so much for what happened with Liam, or that she was still so affected by it after all this time.

Rachel inhaled deeply through her nose, pulling herself together. “I have to say, though, Blaine: If I see anything like that with you, if I sense Kurt may bet hurt again, I will not hesitate to warn him about it and get him out of the relationship before his life is shattered again. Doesn’t matter if Kurt’s blissfully unaware, I won’t make the same mistake again.”

Blaine felt appropriately threatened, and it must have shown on his face for Rachel’s expression softened.

“I don’t mean to sound so distrustful of you,” she apologised, “but I don’t want to see Kurt heartbroken and wrecked like that. I can’t let him go through that again.”

Blaine nodded, guilt creeping into his veins as he thought of how he would be leaving Kurt forever sometime soon and how he was going to do so knowing he hurt Kurt. But Kurt had said he didn’t care, he wanted this relationship anyway.

He swallowed thickly. “I promise I’ll do my very best to never do anything to hurt him,” he told Rachel, trying to ignore the memory of 1920s New York that was lingering in his mind.

 

~ * ~

 

They made a new lead in researching time travel when Blaine stumbled upon a website discussing a number of stories of old magic in New York. The stories had mostly been dismissed as old wives tales of fairy tales, but one of them spoke of viewing years into the past or future, sounding awfully like time travel. They were too desperate to leave stories like that unturned, despite sounding far too fanciful to contain much truth, and so Blaine looked into it more, searching through countless websites and taking several large books out the local library to look through. Kurt felt that sick, conflicting, hopeful feeling that Blaine would make some progress towards returning home and, conversely, that he was following another dead trail. But the weekend arrived and Blaine had made little progress with his new findings, unable to find enough information to learn anything useful or to scrap researching it.

They had been trying to take weekends off from researching. Blaine was doing so much during the week and Kurt was helping when he got home from work and as a result by Friday night they were both sick of fruitlessly searching through books and scrolling through websites. Weekends were the time they relaxed, went on dates, had a bit of fun, and soaked up modern-day New York.

Cooking breakfast together on the weekends had become a ritual for them at some point. Every Saturday Kurt would shuffle through to the kitchen to find a tousle-haired Blaine pulling ingredients out of the fridge and cupboards. They would then flow into the seamless routine of making breakfast, moving around each other easily in the small kitchen while sometimes being watched by an amused Rachel. Kurt knew Blaine loved banana on his granola but strawberries on his pancakes, while Blaine always made Kurt’s coffee just the way he liked it. They had each other’s likes and movements in the kitchen down to a T, and it was so domestic it made Kurt’s heart swell just thinking about it.

That Saturday, breakfast was made as usual and they had just sat down to it when Blaine looked across the table at Kurt with a small, hopeful smile, his eyes lit up to the light golden colour of soft caramel.

“I want to cook for you tonight,” he said.

Brow lowering into a small frown, Kurt gave Blaine a puzzled smile. “Ok – but you nearly always help with dinner.”

“No – No, I meant I want to cook a meal for you for a date,” Blaine corrected.

“Oh!” Confusion lifting, Kurt tried to control the huge smile threatening to split his face. Nobody had ever done anything like that for him before; Liam hadn’t really been a cook so all their dinner dates had been at restaurants. Having someone take the time to cook a meal for him was both new and thrilling. “That’s really sweet of you. Tonight?”

Blaine nodded. “Yes, I thought we could have it tonight seeing as Rachel is out. I’ll make a three-course meal and get some nice wine to go with it.”

“Sounds perfect,” Kurt agreed.

“Which means-” Blaine sent Kurt a coy grin, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes “-you need to stay out the way while I cook and get things set up?”

Kurt stared at him. “What?”

Blaine was still grinning. “Well, you can’t be around here, otherwise you’ll know what I’m doing.” When Kurt said nothing, he added, “It’s a surprise.”

“What am I supposed to do all day?” Kurt asked, feeling a little lost, the rug of his plans for the day having been pulled out from under his feet.

Blaine spread his arms in a wide, encompassing gesture. “Go for a walk, get a coffee, read a book – take the day off for once and relax, you deserve it.”

Kurt took in Blaine’s hopeful expression, the delight in his eyes at the thought of his plans for their date. Kurt couldn’t say no to him.

“Ok, I’ll make myself scarce for the day.”

Blaine’s smile widened.

“But if you need anything, or if you can’t work something in the kitchen call me on this number.” He jumped to his feet and snatched up the little notebook they kept next to the phone in case anyone called for Rachel while she was out and he needed to take a message. He printed his cell phone number clearly across the middle of the page and tore it out. “That’s for my own phone,” he explained, handing the page to Blaine. “Call me if you need anything, ok?”

Staring down at the printed numbers, Blaine nodded. “I should be all right, but I’ll call you when dinner is ready if you’re not back.”

Just under an hour later Kurt was dressed and ready to leave. He paused by the front door, hands stilling in the middle of knotting his scarf. He couldn’t remember if Blaine knew how to work the microwave. He turned towards the kitchen.

“Blaine…”

Blaine came out the kitchen and smiled in exasperation when he saw Kurt hadn’t left yet.

“Get a wiggle on, Kurt. If you want the dinner I planned today then you need to hurry up and leave.” When Kurt hesitated, he made a shooing motion with his hands. “I’ll be fine, Kurt – really. And if I need any help I have your phone number.”

Kurt nodded. “Ok.” He took a step back towards the front door. “Ok. I’ll see you later, then.”

“I’ll see you later,” Blaine echoed.

Pulling his phone out his pocket, Kurt turned up the volume on it as he left the apartment and headed downstairs in the elevator, just in case he missed it vibrating if Blaine rang. A giddy thrill was beginning to buzz in his veins in anticipation of seeing what Blaine had planned for their evening and he felt light and bouncy on his feet as he crossed the entrance lobby and left his building. Even the dull, cloudy day outside couldn’t dampen his mood and the shiver that ran through him from the chilly wind felt only superficial, the cold not reaching the warmth inside him. He hummed softly as he meandered slowly down the street, no real destination in mind, just letting his feet guide him through the city and allowing himself to relax as Blaine had suggested.

His aimless wandering took him past a coffee shop and the delicious aroma of freshly ground coffee beans lured him inside. As he was waiting in line his gaze drifted over to the wide window at the front of the shop and the urge to walk the streets filled him. Usually whenever he walked through the city he had a set destination in mind and a route mapped out in his head, he’d never simply strolled through the streets. The idea seemed peaceful and calming, a way of centring his thoughts so he was able to think properly; he was beginning to understand why Blaine had suggested it.

He got his coffee to go and left the café with an eager stride that slowed to a steady pace when he hit the street. He sipped at his coffee as he wandered through the streets, observing fellow New Yorkers going about their daily business and wondering if any of them felt as happy – as bubbly, gloriously happy – and content as he did. Letting his mind off the tight leash it was normally kept on, allowing himself to think of things other than work and family and Blaine’s research, he created a story in his head for the middle-aged couple arguing as they waited to cross a road, admired the artistic abilities of a serious-faced girl sketching a street scene from her spot outside a deli he passed… He let his thoughts flow like water down a rocky hillside, ever shifting direction and following the influences of the surrounding environment, and he felt the small knot of tension created by a stressful week at work loosen and then untie.

Though it hadn’t been his original plans for the day, Kurt couldn’t deny this had been much needed, and he wondered how Blaine had known.

He didn’t start to wonder how Blaine was getting on until the early afternoon when he sat down in a busy café with a light salad for lunch. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he checked to make sure he hadn’t missed any calls, though he knew he would have heard if Blaine had called.

There was nothing.

He stared at the blank screen of his phone musingly, the enjoyable morning not allowing him to worry over how Blaine was doing. Instead, he amused himself while he ate by imagining the possibilities of what Blaine had planned for the evening. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he pictured Blaine – forehead scrunched in concentration, tongue peeking out the corner of his mouth as it sometimes did when he helped cook – meticulously chopping vegetables and stirring saucepans as he prepared the mystery meal. A gush of affection poured warm and sweet into his belly at the thought – Blaine was doing all of this for him.

For the rest of the afternoon his drifting thoughts were replaced by ones of Blaine. He remembered what the other man had been like in the early days of their friendship and surprise flickered through him as he realised how much Blaine had changed since those days. Living in the twenty-first century had influenced him greatly; it would be an entirely different man returning to the twenties.

With his mind now focused on Blaine, Kurt checked his phone regularly as he continued to walk around the city. He knew he hadn’t missed any calls, but he still wasn’t satisfied with this until he had looked at his phone screen and seen no missed call notification. Excitement built up inside him as time ticked by, and the urge to check his phone strengthened until he was pulling it out of his pocket every five minutes or so, but Blaine didn’t call until after six in the evening, just when Kurt was starting to worry he may be struggling.

“Blaine?” he said urgently into the phone once he’d whipped it out of his pocket. “Is everything alright?”

“Everything is swell,” Blaine assured him. Kurt could hear the smile in his voice. “I’m just calling to request you come home now because I would like to treat you to dinner tonight.”

“You’ve finished cooking?”

“I’ve finished cooking.”

Spinning on his heel, Kurt turned and strode back down the street he’d just been walking along. He smiled excitedly as he hurried towards the nearest subway. “Do I get any clues about what you’ve made?”

“I already told you: it’s a surprise; you’ll see when you get home.”

“I’m on my way,” Kurt told him hurriedly as he dashed down the stairs to the subway. “I’ll be twenty minutes, tops.”

“I’ll see you in a little while, then.”

Kurt said goodbye and hung up, keeping his phone clutched in his hand and throwing himself down the last few steps onto the platform when he saw the train standing there. He just made it: the doors shut and the train pulled out of the station moments after he hurried aboard. Gasping for breath, he leant against the wall by the doors and discretely fixed his dishevelled clothing. For the first time since moving to New York five years ago he mentally thanked whoever had been the driving force behind the installation of the subway system. The journey back home was more than halved and with how impatient he currently was to get home, he had never been more grateful for the technology that enabled that to be possible.

“I’m back!” he sang out as he stepped into the apartment. He rushed eagerly towards the kitchen – and came to an uncertain halt.

He had, inadvertently, been expecting an elaborately laid table, candles and flowers, Blaine in a bowtie greeting him with a soft kiss and a glass of wine, but there was nothing, not even plates on the table.

Blaine bounded through from the kitchen, his eyes bright and his face lit up in anticipation. “Good evening,” he greeted, kissing Kurt on the cheek. “Go get changed and we can head up for dinner.”

“Up?” Kurt repeated in confusion.

Blaine’s smile widened. He placed a hand on Kurt’s back and gently pushed him towards the hall leading to the bedrooms. “All will be revealed soon. Go and get changed.”

Kurt pondered Blaine’s words as he hurriedly changed into a button-down shirt and dark dress pants, but he made no more sense of them. He gave up on trying to figure it out as he tidied his hair, deciding to just let himself be surprised.

“I’m ready,” he announced, skidding to a stop in front of Blaine, who was standing waiting for him by the couch. Blaine had also changed and was now wearing a blazer over the button-down and bowtie of Kurt’s earlier fantasies. Kurt felt a little breathless at the sight: Blaine was so beautiful he took his breath away.

Blaine smiled at him. “For you,” he said, moving his right hand out from behind his back and presenting Kurt with a small bunch of red roses.

“Oh!” Kurt was speechless. Wordlessly, he accepted the sweet-smelling roses and gazed down at their plummy, richly-coloured petals. Adoration for Blaine bloomed inside of him in a warm cloud, the sweet, hopeful smile on the other man’s face never failed to be endearing.

Touching a silky petal with his thumb, Kurt found his voice again. “Thank you.” He stepped forward and kissed Blaine softly.

“You’re welcome,” Blaine breathed, his words caressing Kurt’s lips before he stepped back.

Kurt began moving backwards towards the kitchen. “I’ll quickly put these in water and then we can-” Unsure how to finish the sentence, he waved his hand in an encompassing gesture to mean they could continue their evening. He placed the roses in a vase, gave them one last fond look, and then hurried back to Blaine’s side, eager to see the next part of his surprise.

Blaine held out his arm when Kurt reached him. “May I?”

Beaming, Kurt slid his arm into Blaine’s and allowed himself to be steered out of the apartment and, to his confusion, into the elevator and up to the top floor. It was only when they were heading towards the stairwell that Kurt realised where Blaine was taking him.

“The roof?” he asked in surprise. Had Blaine actually-

Blaine said nothing, pushing open the door leading out onto the rooftop and leading Kurt outside. Kurt’s jaw dropped.

Strings of brightly glowing fairy lights had been hung between tall metal stands so they criss-crossed over a table, looking like little stars that had been caught on a wire. The table itself was set for two with a small candle lamp and a vase holding a single rose as a centrepiece. The white tablecloth rippled in the slight breeze and Kurt, gaping at the scene in awe, took a step forward, his gaze landing on a second, smaller table holding a wine bottle and large covered dish set up close-by the first. Soft classical music was playing from somewhere, sounding above the rumble of traffic, squeaking of brakes, and occasional wail of sirens or blare of horns from the roads below.

“You- You set this up for me?” Kurt said in wonder, his voice coming out higher than normal. He dragged his eyes away from the picturesque scene in front of him to look at Blaine, finding his boyfriend watching him closely.

“You deserve it,” Blaine said simply.

Kurt stared at him. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.” Blaine tugged gently on his arm. “Let’s go eat before the food goes cold.”

Obediently obeying the pressure on his arm, Kurt walked with Blaine to the table, still completely blown away by what Blaine had done for him. Now they were closer to the table, he could see the napkins were folded in a way reminiscent of a classy restaurant, the cutlery had been polished to a high shine, and the tablecloth had been pressed until it was crease-free.

Blaine let go of his arm when they reached the table and pulled out a chair for Kurt. “Wine?” he offered once Kurt had sat down.

“Yes, please,” Kurt replied absently, his gaze still raking the rooftop.

From where he was seated the city’s lights looked like another network of multi-coloured stars glittering below those sprinkled across the sky above him, a sky which was rapidly darkening from the pinkish tones of dusk. It was a breath-taking sight, and somehow made him feel as though he and Blaine were in their own little bubble surrounded by the constellations of lights and stars. He didn’t think he could have dreamt up a more perfect location for their dinner date.

“Sorry it’s not the most ideal weather for this sort of thing,” Blaine said, setting Kurt’s glass of wine down in front of him and sitting down opposite him. “This would have been better left to summer months, but I really wanted to-”

“Blaine,” Kurt interrupted his babbling, reaching across the table to take his hand. “Stop apologising for the weather. This is perfect, I love it.”

“You do?” Blaine’s eyes lit up hopefully.

Kurt squeezed Blaine’s hand. “Of course I do. Look at what you’ve done for me.” He waved his free hand to indicate everything from the flickering candle between them to the stars and lights above. “How could I not love it? I feel like the luckiest guy on Earth right now.”

Blaine positively beamed at him, his eyes crinkling at the corners, his nose scrunching up slightly. “Let’s hope the food doesn’t let tonight down.” He stood up and lifted the cover off the large plate on the table next to them, before setting a plate in front of Kurt with a flourish. “For starters: Ricotta cheese and chilli stuffed mushrooms.”

“It looks amazing,” Kurt said as Blaine sat down with his own plate. “Spicy?”

Blaine shook his head. “Shouldn’t be – the chilli should add flavour, not heat.” He watched apprehensively as Kurt took a bite.

“I don’t think you have to worry about any of the food – this is delicious.”

Blaine relaxed in his chair, picking up his own knife and fork and starting to eat.

“Have you got all the food up here?” Kurt asked, reaching for his wine glass.

In the middle of chewing a mouthful of food, Blaine only nodded. He swallowed. “Rachel gave me that thing you have for keeping plates warm. I’m using that for the main course, but the desert is chilled, so that’s fine as long as it’s covered.”

Kurt speared another forkful of mushroom. “Rachel helped you?”

“Just with that. She tried to help with the cooking and recipe choices, but I told her I would prefer to do it myself.”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “Of course she did.”

Conversation flowed smoothly as they finished their starter and moved onto the main course and Kurt was reminded once again how easy it was to talk to Blaine. Blaine understood him in ways Rachel, his friends from college, and even his dad didn’t. It had nothing to do with them both being gay, they just both connected as human beings; they had a similar sense of humour, had a lot of common interests, and viewed the world in a similar way. It was so easy spending time with Blaine – it was like being with another part of himself, another half of his own soul.

Desert was a vanilla cheesecake topped with fresh berries and from the moment the first forkful entered Kurt’s mouth he was in heaven.

“Oh, my God,” he all but moaned, “you have to make this every day.” He let the next mouthful of the creamy desert melt in his mouth. “How did you know cheesecake was my biggest weakness?”

Blaine grinned at him. “I could lie and say it was intuition, but Rachel not-so-subtly let slip how much you loved it.”

“I’ll have to thank her,” Kurt said, popping a strawberry piece into his mouth.

“She threatened me while you were at your work yesterday,” Blaine said casually. When Kurt’s eyes widened in indignation, he added, “If she ever catches the slightest hint that I’m going to hurt you she’s going to come after me.”

Kurt just sighed. He had been expecting her to do this, but had been hoping she wouldn’t. “I’ve told her I can take care of myself.”

“It got me thinking, though…”

Kurt looked up from his plate at the serious tone to Blaine’s voice.

“When I leave and return to my own time, you’ll be upset, presumably.”

“Blaine…” Setting down his fork, Kurt reached across the table again and placed his hand over Blaine’s. “I’ll be devastated, but it’s ok; I want you to go home to your family and your friends and your life.”

Blaine swallowed, twisting his hand beneath Kurt’s so he could link their fingers together. “I was wondering what you would tell Rachel after I disappear from your life.”

Kurt stared at him. “Oh… I haven’t thought about that,” he admitted. And he hadn’t; any time he’d thought about life after Blaine had left (which he tried to avoid doing), he only ever worried about how he would cope and how he could move on despite knowing he could never hear Blaine’s voice again. He’d never given a second’s thought to what he’d tell the other people in his life who knew Blaine (which, at the moment, was only Rachel).

“I think,” Kurt began slowly, absently rubbing the side of Blaine’s thumb with his own, “if it’s ok with you, I would want to tell her the truth. I wouldn’t want to lie and say we broke up or anything like that. But only if you’re happy with that.”

Blaine nodded. “You can tell her – I mean, I’ll be gone anyway and it’s not like I’ll be able to come back.”

There was a question there; a question Kurt didn’t want to ask tonight, not when it was all so perfect and Blaine looked so beautiful in the light of the candle and dozens of fairy lights. Discussing the aftermath of Blaine leaving maybe wasn’t the best conversation to be having on a date either, but Kurt didn’t want to risk destroying their evening by asking the question now planted in his brain.

“And what will we do if I’m still here in a few months’ time and Rachel becomes suspicious?” Blaine asked. “I guess we could tell her everything, but- I don’t know… What if she doesn’t take it as well as you did? What if she demands I move out, or thinks I’m insane?”

Kurt squeezed Blaine’s hand in reassurance. “We don’t have to tell her. If you’re still here in a few months I could set you up somewhere else in the city so Rachel will think you’ve left, or- You told her you’d taken a year off to travel, didn’t you?” he checked, referring to their agreed cover story. At Blaine’s nod, he continued, “You could just say you’ve decided to spend your entire year off here.”

“I could,” Blaine agreed. “Sounds better than having to move somewhere else and sneak around when we want to be together.”

Smiling, Kurt patted Blaine’s hand, before letting go and scooping up the last of his cheesecake. “It does. So how much do I have to pay you to make this cheesecake every day? I was being serious about that.”

And just like that their conversation switched back to painless, carefree subjects.

A while later, when desert was long finished and the sky had darkened deeper, Kurt gave an involuntary shiver. The night air had cooled since they had sat down to dinner, and there was now a chill to the breeze that blew across the rooftop.

Blaine noticed his shiver. “Want to head inside? I’ve got one last surprise for you.”

Trying not to let his mind jump to conclusions or fantasies, Kurt nodded and got to his feet as Blaine stood up and stepped over to him, offering him his arm again.

Kurt took it. “Shouldn’t we tidy this up?” he asked as Blaine led him towards the door leading downstairs. He glanced over his shoulder at the dinner set-up they’d left behind.

“It’s being dealt with, don’t worry.” Blaine flashed a grin at Kurt as they headed down the stairs. “I bribed Rachel with some mini vegan cheesecakes to tidy it up before she went out with Finn.”

The apartment was almost dark when they entered it. They’d only left on a single lamp and its soft glow was the only source of illumination other than the glow of city lights through the window. Blaine turned on another couple of lamps as he led Kurt over to the old record player he and Rachel played their vinyls on.

Blaine let go of Kurt’s hand and fumbled with the controls on the player. “There’s a record store not far from here that specialises in old vinyls. I went there and had a good look through their stock; it took me awhile, but I found this.”

Curious, Kurt watched as Blaine balanced the needle on top of the record before taking a step back until he was by Kurt’s side again.

A waltz began to play, clearly a song from Blaine’s time. The tune was almost familiar to Kurt and he wondered if he’d heard it in a movie or on TV somewhere. The crackle of the record player made the music sound even more romantic and looking at Blaine in his suit, bowtie, and slicked down hair, it was almost like he’d been transported back in time, to a time where he and Blaine could have danced to a song like this at a ball – if it weren’t for the fact that they were both men.

Blaine held out his hand to him. “May I have this dance?”

Kurt couldn’t hide the delighted smile that spread across his face. “Yes,” he said breathily, taking Blaine’s hand. “Yes, you may.”

Blaine led him over to a free space of floor and slid an arm around his waist, pulling him closer. Kurt rested his hand on Blaine’s shoulder, sliding it around towards his shoulderblade when Blaine shifted even closer. Their faces were now merely inches apart, and as much as Kurt wanted to close that small gap between them and press his mouth to Blaine’s, he resisted, closing his eyes as he began to move with Blaine to the music.

They danced slowly, the sound of their feet upon the floors almost silent. After a moment, Blaine sighed and dropped his head to rest it on Kurt’s shoulder, tucking it in the crook of Kurt’s neck. He fit so perfectly there, like he was a puzzle piece made of Kurt, and his height made it possible for Kurt to rest his cheek on top of Blaine’s gelled curls.

“This is everything I ever wanted,” Blaine murmured softly. “Being in a relationship with someone I really care about: it’s everything I wished for.”

Kurt pressed a kiss to the top of Blaine’s head in response. His feelings for Blaine were growing by the day and as they did, he could see the difference between how he felt for Blaine and how he’d once felt for Liam. With Liam it had felt like he’d had to fall in love with him; that because a guy was showing an interest in him and dating him he had to fall in love with him. Doubts had regularly riddled his mind when he’d been dating Liam, mostly plaguing him at night when he was at his most relaxed and unguarded. He’d pushed those back until, several months into the relationship, they muted, before disappearing altogether. With Blaine there was none of this: no doubts, no feeling of needing to follow certain protocols, no forcing himself to feel a certain way. With Blaine everything felt right, and he was falling in love in a way that was most definitely real: slowly, gently, and with an exhilarating pounding of a rejoicing heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Kurt and Blaine dance to is 'Three O’ Clock in the Morning' by Paul Whiteman, released in 1922.


	9. Chapter 9

It was as Blaine lay on his back on the couch, the day after their dinner date, absentmindedly smoothing his thumb over the engraved cover of his pocket watch that Kurt brought up the subject of the stories of magic Blaine had learned about.

“How much did you learn about those old magic stories?” Kurt asked, his voice breaking the lazy, content silence.

Feeling as though he was stirring from a doze, Blaine turned his head to the side to look at Kurt, his thumb stilling against the warmed metal of his pocket watch. Kurt was slumped in his usual armchair, a fashion magazine he had been flicking through dangling from his loose grasp, his eyes on the watch in Blaine’s right hand.

Blaine frowned as he tried to remember everything he had read on the internet over the last week. “Um… Not much. Most of the writings on them seemed to be either ridiculing the idea or using it for fictitious purposes.”

Kurt hummed in response, his expression contemplative as he stared at Blaine’s pocket watch. “Did any of them mention time travel?”

Blaine shook his head. “No. That’s why I never found out about them until a few days ago.” He shifted slightly on the couch, moving into a position which was more comfortable for looking at Kurt. “We’ve ruled out science, so magic has to be what had brought me here,” he added, for they had given up looking into scientific trials or research on time travel a week ago when they’d found next to nothing on the subject.

“I can’t think of what else it could be,” Kurt agreed, his tone still distracted and musing, clearly thinking hard about something.

Blaine watched Kurt silently for a moment, then tilted his head to one side, trying to catch Kurt’s eye. “Penny for your thoughts?”

Blinking, Kurt met Blaine’s gaze, his frown smoothing out as he gave Blaine a small smile. “I was just trying to remember – I’m sure someone told me about magic in the city, but I can’t remember who mentioned it to me. I’m sure it was back when I first arrived here… One of my old classmates, maybe?” He kneaded his forehead with his fist, as though he could force the memory to the surface with the pressure. “I could try asking Rachel when she gets home. If I told her about it, she’d remember; she has a good memory for strange things like that.” He leaned forward and tossed his magazine onto the coffee table.

Blaine followed its path with his eyes, nibbling unconsciously on his bottom lip as he gazed at the now-familiar mess of sheet music, books, magazines, and sketches that littered the coffee table. The novel he was reading was there, lying on top of a few of Kurt’s sketches.

“Kurt,” Blaine said softly, his lips moving of their own accord, the word leaving him subconsciously, his mind still focussed on that book on the table.

In the periphery of his vision he saw Kurt turn his head to look at him, his expression openly curious. “Yeah?”

“What if I don’t want to go back?” The thought that had been hanging around inside his head for weeks left him without hesitation. The longer he spent in this time with Kurt the clearer and more potent that thought had become and he couldn’t keep it to himself any longer; he needed to talk about it, needed to discuss it rationally with someone to make sure it was something he truly meant. He needed to be reassured he wasn’t an awful person for wishing to leave his family and friends to stay here.

Kurt’s head came off his hand where it had been resting and he sat up straighter, staring at him. “What?”

Dragging his eyes away from the book, Blaine faced Kurt. “What if I want to stay here?”

Kurt opened his mouth, closed it again. Blaine had no idea what his boyfriend was thinking beyond surprise at his words and he couldn’t help but worry Kurt was about to react in the way he had hoped he wouldn’t: by implying he was a selfish, horrible person for wanting to stay and insisting it was for the best that he went home.

A small frown line had appeared between Kurt’s eyebrows. “Let me get this straight: you want to stay here in this year instead of returning to your own time?”

Swallowing, Blaine nodded. “Yes.”

Kurt stared at him silently for a long moment, his face still impossible to read. Blaine fought with the urge to fidget under his gaze.

“What about your family and friends?” Kurt asked eventually.

“I know I seem selfish by staying, but it-” He licked his lips. “Everything that I want is here, in this time. Back in my time there’s no equality, no acceptance for people like me, and little chance I’ll get the life I dream of. I have to put on a false pretence every day from the moment I wake up until I go to sleep again. I can’t be my true self around my family and if I told them the truth about my sexuality they would disown me in a heartbeat; they couldn’t have someone like me staining their pure reputations.” He breathed out heavily through his nose, the old tiredness creeping into the edges of his mind from the mere memory of what his life was like in his own time. “I’m tired of not being able to be myself around people or of being allowed to live my life the way I want to, and maybe it is cheating at life and maybe I am being cruel to my family by abandoning them, but I want to stay here.”

Silence followed Blaine’s confession. It was a silence so complete and still that Blaine could hear the soft hum of the refrigerator from across the apartment and the buzzing of a fly by one of the windows. He wanted Kurt to speak but at the same time he wasn’t ready to hear his response. He didn’t know what he’d do if Kurt told him he should go home.

Because even if Kurt assured him a thousand times that his wishes had nothing to do with their relationship, Blaine would still think it did, his mind just worked that way. 

Over-sensitive, his father had called him once.

Kurt was still frowning. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice serious and, thankfully, not sceptical. “I mean, this is a big decision to make; it’s not the simple, standard way of starting your life afresh, and I don’t know if it’s even possible.”

“What do you mean?” Blaine asked, feeling puzzled.

Kurt twisted around in his chair until he was directly facing Blaine. “You being here must be messing up the space-time continuum – or whatever it’s called.”

“The what?”

“Never mind,” Kurt said, waving the comment off with a small flick of his wrist. “The point is, you’re not supposed to be here, and this has – had – to have had effects back in your time.” Kurt’s voice lowered, becoming softer. “To everyone who knew and loved you, you vanished without a trace one day, that will have made a huge impact on their lives. We don’t know what damage you’re doing by staying here.”

Blaine stiffened, his fingers clamping tightly around his pocket watch. “I don’t want to look into that, Kurt…”

“I’m not saying you should!” Kurt said quickly. “But – I don’t know how this stuff works! What if you just drop dead or disappear one day because of universe time forces or something?” He rubbed at a spot above his left eyebrow. “I’m just worried about you. I wish we understood this better.”

Getting to his feet, Blaine hurried over to Kurt’s armchair and perched himself on the arm of it, shoving his watch into his pocket as he went. He placed a hand on Kurt’s shoulder, rubbing at it soothingly with his thumb as he met Kurt’s worried gaze.

“I know it’s a risk and I know we’re sailing in unknown waters here, but I-” He hesitated for a second, his heart leaping nervously in his chest. “I fully believe you and the life I have here is worth the risk. This isn’t a spontaneous decision, I’ve been thinking about this for days, and I don’t want to lose you or the life I have here.”

Kurt placed a hand on top of Blaine’s where it rested on his shoulder. He gave it a light squeeze. “The last thing I want you to do is leave, but I just-”

“Worry,” Blaine finished for him. “I know.” Biting his bottom lip, Kurt nodded at him, his blue eyes large as he fretted, his forehead creased into lines of worry. Blaine gazed at him for a moment, wondering if there was a way to help alleviate Kurt’s worry – and his own; he’d be lying if he said the prospect of staying in the twenty-first century for good wasn’t scaring him.

“How about this: we continue to research time travel and see if we can learn more about these tales of magic and see if there’s any information out there that might help us.”

Nodding slowly, Kurt smiled up at Blaine. “That sounds good. I’m not trying to talk you out of staying or anything like that; I just want to make sure you’ve considered all the consequences, and I don’t’ want you to get hurt.”

“I understand.” Blaine bent down and pressed a quick kiss to Kurt’s lips. “Thank you for being so supportive.”

Kurt smoothed his thumb over the knuckles of Blaine’s hand. “You’re welcome.” He shifted in his chair. “Come here,” he said, patting his thigh with his free hand.

Blaine hopped down and stepped around the side of the chair, hesitated for a split-second, and then sat down on Kurt’s lap, trying to be as light as possible.

Kurt pulled him closer until he was leaning against his chest. “Relax,” Kurt told him with a smile. He pressed a kiss to Blaine’s temple. “You’re tiny and I’m not made of glass.”

With a soft sigh, Blaine settled against Kurt’s chest, resting his head against his shoulder, and smiling as Kurt’s arm wrapped around his waist as Kurt nuzzled at his head.

Absently tracing a line down Kurt’s chest with his finger, Blaine said softly, “You know you’re a big part of why I want to stay here but there are other reasons, too.” He glanced up at Kurt as he felt his boyfriend lift his head off his own. “I can tell you’re worrying that I only want to stay because we’re in the early days of our relationship – and I’ll admit, my decision is clouded by that somewhat – but if I stay here I’m free to be myself; I’m free to follow my passions and study music at college instead of law.”

Kurt held his gaze for a long moment, his expression oddly conflicted, and then he nodded. “I know it’s more than us,” he said. “We’ll do the research and discuss it more when we have more information, ok?”

Blaine hesitated, then agreed, returning Kurt’s smile and snuggling back into his chest again. He knew Kurt didn’t mean it that way, but he couldn’t help but feel like he’d been brushed off. He wanted to talk about it more now; wanted to make sure Kurt really understood why he wished to stay and that it wasn’t a hastily, spontaneously made decision. He needed to make sure Kurt wasn’t blaming himself for this; that his mind wasn’t following the route that if they hadn’t met and become so close he wouldn’t be questioning returning home to his family.

~ * ~

“Do you remember – way back in our early days of college – someone telling us old stories about New York?” Kurt asked Rachel, leaning against her bedroom wall and watching as she put away some laundry. “Like ones about magic and stuff.”

“Um… I think I remember that, yeah,” Rachel replied without looking round from where she was hanging up a dress in her closet. “It was some girl who was in one of your classes; we had coffee with her and a few others one time. I think her name was Kayleigh. She was a bit strange.”

A memory began playing in Kurt’s mind, flickering into view like a television being switched on: a tall, dark-haired girl telling tales that had been told in her family for generations, ignoring the disbelieving looks she was receiving as she talked about magic and spirits as though they were real. Kayleigh, Kurt remembered; her name was Kayleigh.

“Why?” Rachel wanted to know. She shot Kurt a curious look as she scooped up a couple of folded sweaters and went to place them in her dresser.

Kurt already had a cover story ready.

“My boss wants me to think about designs inspired by New York’s past and rather than go for the obvious I thought I’d look into the more mystical, lesser-known parts and I remembered those stories.”

Rachel didn’t look even the slightest bit suspicious. “Kurt, you do know those stories were just that: stories.”

Kurt shrugged. “I did a little research online and I’m going to look into it further; there’s no harm in it, and it would be an interesting, unique source of inspiration.”

“Only if those stories were true,” Rachel rebutted, “which they are not.” She placed the last article of clothing in her dresser and shut the drawer before turning to look at Kurt with a slightly superior expression, as though she thought Kurt was being stupid and ridiculous for even thinking about learning more about the stories.

“I’m going to try and talk to Kayleigh,” Kurt told her.

Rachel shrugged. “Do whatever you want, but I think you’re wasting your time.”

She strode out of her room and into the living room, Kurt followed her absently.

“Did I add her on Facebook?” he wondered aloud.

Dropping down onto the couch, he reached for his laptop where Blaine had abandoned it, tugging it towards him and minimising the webpage Blaine had been looking at, loading up Facebook in a new window.

“Kayleigh Breen,” he said after a minute or two of searching through his friend list on the site. He squinted at the profile picture. “That sounds about right, doesn’t it?”

Rachel hummed in response, clearly uninterested and not listening, but Kurt hadn’t needed a reply, he was positive this was the Kayleigh who had told him those stories several years ago.

He clicked through to her profile and scanned the page, noting her interests and the pages she had commented on: witchcraft, psychic readers, and supernatural stores; this was definitely the person he was looking for.

Blaine joined him on the couch as he sent Kayleigh a quick message detailing the same story he’d told Rachel and explaining how he remembered her stories and asking if it was possible for her to tell him more about them. Blaine frowned curiously at the message as Kurt sent it.

“This is the girl I was telling you about,” Kurt explained, waving a hand at Kayleigh’s Facebook page displayed on the laptop’s screen. “The one who told me about magic in New York and will hopefully be able to help inspire some designs.” He was acutely aware of Rachel’s presence in the room and spoke carefully, not wanting a slip up maybe leading to Blaine’s secret being revealed.

“Oh.” Blaine’s curiosity faded, being replaced by a renewed interest. “I’m glad to hear you were able to find her.”

Kurt nodded, wishing he was able to discuss it properly with Blaine. He wanted to plan what sort of questions to ask Kayleigh and decide how they could find out the more specific details of time travel without making her suspicious. He glanced over at where Rachel was playing with her phone, wishing she would leave.

“What were you looking at on here?” Kurt asked Blaine, giving up on mentally yelling at Rachel to leave the apartment for a few hours and turning his attention back to the computer screen. He clicked out of Facebook and opened the page Blaine had been viewing.

“Nothing interesting,” Blaine replied as Kurt looked over the old newspaper article on strange occurrences in the city that some people were putting down to magic. “I wasn’t looking at anything in particular.”

Like most other writings on similar subjects, when discussing the group of people believing magic was the cause of strange objects appearing in homes and reports of odd presences in buildings, the article carried a mocking tone.

Passing the laptop back to Blaine, Kurt watched as his boyfriend clicked off the newspaper article and continued looking through what appeared to be an archive of old newspapers, clicking on any that seemed relevant. After fruitlessly reading a few articles along with Blaine, a Facebook notification appeared – Kayleigh had replied to his message. He pointed this out to Blaine.

“Let’s hope she hasn’t said no,” Kurt said anxiously as Blaine opened the message up. They both scanned it with frantic eyes.

Kurt breathed a sigh of relief, falling against the back of the couch. Kayleigh had agreed to talk to them and invited them over tomorrow evening.

“That’s good of her to agree to meet us,” Blaine said, turning his head to look at Kurt. “Especially seeing as you said you haven’t spoken to her for a while.”

“Years,” Rachel supplied from her spot in Kurt’s usual armchair.

Kurt was surprised: he hadn’t realised she was actually paying attention to them; she appeared to be absorbed in her phone. He shot her a withering look.

“It has not been years; more like thirteen or fourteen months.” He looked back at Kayleigh’s message. “It doesn’t matter, we didn’t have much in common and she’s not the type of person to be bothered by details like that.”

“Like not talking to someone for over a year and then calling on them for a favour?” Rachel wondered, lowering her phone to raise her eyebrows at Kurt.

Kurt scowled at her. “What is your problem?”

Rachel sighed dramatically and got to her feet, snatching up her purse and tossing her phone into it. “I don’t know.” She strode towards the door, her heels clacking on the wooden floors. “I’m going out for coffee – do you guys want me to bring you back anything?”

Kurt and Blaine both shook their heads and she left, sweeping out the door without so much as a ‘see you later’.

Blaine stared after her, looking concerned. Noticing this, Kurt waved a hand in a blasé manner. “Oh, don’t worry about her; she gets like this sometimes. She just needs some Rachel-time, she’ll be fine.” He’d seen far too many a Rachel Berry diva moment or stroppy mood swing over the years of their friendship to be bothered by them anymore. He shifted closer to Blaine.

“I’m glad she left, actually, it means we can decide what we’re going to ask Kayleigh tomorrow and how.”

Forgetting about Rachel, Blaine’s expression turned thoughtful.

“Maybe just make it sound like you’re particularly interested in time travel?” he suggested, not sounding at all confident.

Kurt sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration when his mind failed to supply him with anything other than the one thing he knew they couldn’t do.

“I could say that I think time travel would make a better theme to centre my designs around,” he said feebly. He gave his head a small, jerky shake. “Oh, who am I kidding? This whole idea is stupid; we’ll never get any useful information out of her this way.” He met Blaine’s gaze, knowing he wouldn’t like what he was about to say. “We have to tell her the truth. If we want her to tell us everything relevant that she knows about magic and time travel, we have to tell her why we want to know. She’ll never believe these lame cover stories when we start asking her about the finer details. With the story I’ve told her she’ll be expecting to tell us a basic overview of what she knows, but we need as much detail as we can get and we can’t get it this way.”

Kurt offered Blaine a small, apologetic smile when he finished talking. He didn’t like backing Blaine into a corner like this, essentially forcing him to reveal his secret to someone, and a stranger of all people, but it had to be done. Kurt was still convinced that discovering how Blaine got here and learning how he could return home was information Blaine needed whether or not he was actually intending on going home. It may become dangerous for Blaine here, he might get extremely homesick, or he may one day simply decide he wanted to return and Kurt wanted him to have the knowledge required to return home. He knew Blaine wanted to keep his travelling a secret for fear of what people may do with the truth if they found out, and he understood and respected this, but in this situation he felt they had to tell someone else.

Blaine simply looked at him for a long moment, his expression surprisingly calm and accepting. Slowly, he began to nod his agreement.

“You’re right,” he said softly, “we have to tell her.”

“She’s trustworthy,” Kurt reassured him. “In college she was known for being someone you could talk to about anything and not have her breathe a word to another soul.”

Blaine nodded again. “That’s good to know. I-” He looked at Kurt slightly helplessly. “I just don’t want this to get out. I don’t think it’s a good idea if too many people know the truth.”

Reaching for his hand, Kurt gave it a comforting squeeze. “I know.”

Blaine returned the pressure. “It’s for the best,” he agreed.

Kurt found it extremely difficult to concentrate on his work the next day. Whenever he tried to make himself focus, worries about meeting Kayleigh would invade his mind, making it near impossible to work. By the afternoon he was feeling guilty about the lack of work he was getting done and mid-way through a discussion on fabric choices with his boss he had to apologise for his lack of concentration. To his relief his boss waved his apology aside, saying they were all allowed to have their off days. Kurt’s guilt eased, and though he remained tense and distracted for the rest of the work day, he no longer worried about how his work was being affected.

He returned home to an anxious Blaine perched on the very edge of the couch, staring at the wall as he jiggled his right leg and circled his thumb around the circumference of his pocket watch. He didn’t seem to hear Kurt come in or notice him dump his satchel in a chair before sitting down next to him. Kurt placed a hand on top of Blaine’s, which was restlessly fidgeting with his watch. He felt Blaine’s hand still and his boyfriend turned to look at him. He was wearing one of his bowties with a sweater vest and Kurt couldn’t help but notice how young and adorable he looked with his slicked-back hair and large doe eyes, even though they were filled with a frantic worry.

“If you’re not comfortable with this we don’t have to tell her the truth,” Kurt told him softly. “We can make something up – you never know, she might still tell us everything we need.”

Blaine shook his head. His jaw had been clenched and it took him a second before he was able to speak. “It’s fine; we should tell her.”

Kurt eyed him worriedly. He was still bouncing his leg in an anxious, erratic rhythm, but his eyes had hardened with determination; he really did want to do this.

He leaned forward and pressed a lingering kiss to Blaine’s lips. “It’s going to be ok; you’ll see. And one day you’ll be glad you did this. I’m sure Kayleigh is going to give us some answers; I’ve got a good feeling about this.” He gave Blaine another quick kiss before pulling back to look in his eyes. “You ready?” At Blaine’s nod he stood up, tugging Blaine gently to his feet. “Let’s get going. Kayleigh lives out in Brooklyn and it’s going to take us a while to get there during rush hour.”

Kurt kept a hold of Blaine’s hand during the journey out to Brooklyn, giving it a comforting squeeze every now and then to remind Blaine he wasn’t alone and that he would be there to support him throughout all of this. Blaine barely spoke and Kurt didn’t try to force conversation, understanding Blaine would prefer to mentally prepare himself for what they were about to do.

By the time they reached the right building and had been buzzed in by Kayleigh, Blaine was pale and sweating. Kurt tried to appear calm and in control for Blaine’s sake, but his stomach was squirming uncomfortably and his heart was pounding so loudly he was sure Blaine must be able to hear it. His hand trembled slightly when he lifted it to knock on Kayleigh’s door.

Footsteps echoed from behind the door. Blaine’s hand twitched in Kurt’s. Kurt smoothed his thumb over the side of Blaine’s hand.

The door opened.

Kayleigh looked just as Kurt remembered: long dark hair, intelligent brown eyes, and wearing a floor-length dress he was sure she had made herself. She smiled politely at Kurt and Blaine, her gaze taking in Blaine’s shy smile and their joined hands.

“Kurt, hi!” she greeted him brightly. “Long time, no see! How have you been?” She stepped aside and waved them into the apartment.

“I’m good,” Kurt replied, stepping inside with Blaine following closely behind him. “Busy, though. How about you? I heard you work for a fashion magazine now.”

He paused a few feet inside the apartment. “This is my boyfriend, Blaine, by the way – Blaine, this is Kayleigh, an old classmate of mine.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Blaine said, holding out his hand for Kayleigh to shake.

Kayleigh took his hand. “And you.” She stepped past them and led the way through to the living area, talking about her job as she went. Kurt barely listened; he couldn’t focus on pleasantries whilst worrying what was to come.

Kayleigh didn’t leave them hanging. After getting them all drinks and discussing Kurt’s work briefly with him, she brought up the subject of the message Kurt sent her.

“So, you wanted to know more about those stories I told you years ago?”

Exchanging a brief look with Blaine, Kurt nodded. “Yes, um- A similar subject was brought up recently which reminded me of those stories and I would really like to know more.”

Kayleigh tucked her hair behind her ears. “What do you want to know more about?”

Kurt glanced over at Blaine again, silently asking him if he was still ok with revealing his secret and if he was ready to do so. Blaine inhaled deeply and nodded.

“Here’s the thing, Kayleigh,” Kurt began, turning back to face her. “This isn’t about some fashion research for my boss, it’s something bigger than that, but before we talk about it you must swear you won’t tell anyone else; anything we discuss stays between the three of us, ok?”

Curiosity and confusion settled into Kayleigh’s expression, drawing her eyebrows together into a frown and making her sit forward in her seat as her gaze flickered between Kurt and Blaine. “Ok,” she agreed hesitantly. “I promise I won’t tell anyone – but what’s this all about?” A hint of worry crept into her eyes as she took in Kurt’s serious expression and 

Blaine’s nervous jiggling of his leg. “Is everything alright?”

Kurt licked his lips, moistening his dry mouth. “Almost two months ago Blaine somehow travelled through time from the twenties, jumping ninety-one years into the future. He doesn’t have any idea how or why; we were hoping you could help us with that.”

Kayleigh stared at him. Wide-eyed, mouth hanging open slightly, she appeared to have frozen with shock. Kurt gave her a moment to let the news sink in, squeezing Blaine’s hand supportively when he felt it tremble in his own. Her shock and speechlessness was a good sign; it meant she was thinking about it and not being outright scornful and disbelieving. Or, at least, that’s what he hoped.

The silence stretched on and Kurt’s calm and collected armour began to slip as his worry and panic strengthened. The silence seemed deafening and time appeared to drag on and on, each second stretched out for what felt like hours. He could feel Blaine tensing up the longer the silence lingered, could sense his fear building, but just as he was about to say something to break the awful silence, Kayleigh spoke.

“You- You time travelled?” she said, turning her gaze on Blaine. She spoke slowly as though the words were foreign and she was struggling to pronounce the syllables. “You’re not from this time?”

Blaine shook his head in a quick, jerky movement. “No, I’m from the year 1923,” he all but whispered. His grip on Kurt’s hand tightened.

Kayleigh glanced briefly at Kurt, then back at Blaine, as if checking to make sure they weren’t fooling with her and playing some kind of practical joke. Finding no suppressed smirk or teasing sparkle in either of their eyes, her expression shifted, becoming less guarded and more sympathetic.

“And you want to go back,” she stated softly, knowledgably.

Blaine hesitated, and then nodded. “Yeah, I do. I don’t belong here and I’ve left all my family and friends behind.”

As Kayleigh nodded in understanding, both Kurt and Blaine deflated in relief. Blaine’s grip on Kurt’s hand, which had become vice-like, relaxed, and Kurt swore he could feel the blood returning to his fingertips.

Slowly, and while looking thoughtful, Kayleigh sat back. Kurt watched her expression closely, hope swiftly replacing the fear she would react badly to Blaine’s story. He couldn’t have explained how much he was relying on her being able to help them. Even though Blaine wanted to stay here and seemed determined to do so, Kurt desperately wanted to make sure he would be able to return if he ever needed or wanted to.

“Do you remember,” Kayleigh began, her tone as slow and thoughtful as her movements had been, “when I told you of how my ancestors used to practice magic in the city there were certain spots they used to go to do so?”

Kurt didn’t, not really; all his memories of Kayleigh telling her stories of magic consisted of vague recollections of tales of strange happening with an underlying tone of amusement. He hadn’t believed in things like magic and time travel back then, but Liam’s betrayal had left him questioning the world and meeting Blaine had changed his perspective on many things. He was a different person now to who he was back then.

“Um- sort of,” Kurt replied. He knew Kayleigh could tell he wasn’t being entirely truthful; he also knew she didn’t mind. He felt bad for all the times he had laughed about her beliefs behind her back.

“Well, because of this magic has become more concentrated in certain parts of the city,” Kayleigh explained. “It has accumulated in these places over the years and since certain forms of magic strengthen during particular phases of the moon’s cycle and such, it occasionally reaches a strength where it can no longer be contained and overflows, causing so called ‘unexplainable’ events.”

Blaine shifted forward on the couch. When Kurt looked round at him he saw his boyfriend’s face lit up with dawning understanding.

“Are you saying this is what caused me to travel?” Blaine asked. “An overflow of magic?”

Kayleigh scratched at her arm, frowning contemplatively at Blaine. “Possibly; I’d have to look into things to be sure.”

“Would you be able to tell by seeing where I travelled?” Blaine wondered.

“I should be able to, yeah,” Kayleigh replied, nodding. “Magic always leaves traces and if you travelled here by magic there will be some evidence.”

Kurt shifted forward until he was perched on the very edge of the couch. “Do you have time to go look now?” he asked eagerly. He didn’t want to wait around any longer; he was tired of wondering and hoping.

Kayleigh looked over at the clock on the kitchen wall. “Yeah, I have time. Where is it?”

“Manhattan,” Kurt replied, already getting to his feet, tugging Blaine up alongside him by his hand. “Bleecker Street in the West Village.”

There was a sudden scramble then as Kayleigh gathered up her keys and pulled on a coat while Kurt bounced impatiently on the balls of his feet by the door. Blaine looked rather taken aback and stood in silence, his hand still loosely linked with Kurt’s. Kurt guessed he was surprised by how suddenly he could be about to learn the answers to the questions they had been pondering for months.

Out Kayleigh’s building, along the street, onto the subway – they couldn’t go fast enough in Kurt’s mind. He had never really thought of himself as an impatient person – he could spend hours painstakingly working on the design of buttons for a waistcoat – but now he was desperate to know the elusive answers that had evaded him and Blaine for weeks.

By the time they reached the coffee shop darkness had fallen and the street was lit up by the lamps staggered along the road and the light pouring from the surrounding business and passing traffic. Kayleigh had explained the notion of the concentrated magic a little more on the ride on the subway, but Blaine had remained quiet, staring silently at Kayleigh as she spoke. And Blaine was still silent now, frowning as the three of them approached the exact spot by the café where he had travelled.

Kayleigh began scrutinising the area. “It was here, wasn’t it?” She squinted down at the sidewalk, trying to see in the dim light of the shadow near the wall. She wasn’t expecting an answer, too busy searching for clues rather than listening for a reply, so neither Kurt or Blaine responded, instead watching as she went over the area with a fine toothcomb.

“Here,” she murmured eventually.

Kurt gave a little start and moved closer for a better look, Blaine following close behind. Kayleigh was examining what appeared to be a nondescript brick in the wall, but when Kurt got closer he noticed the crack she was tracing with her fingertip.

Sensing their approach, Kayleigh glanced over her shoulder at them.

“This is definitely a site of magic,” she said, returning her attention to the cracked brick. She tapped the crack with her finger. “This crack here is evidence – you can tell by the shape. This is where the magic has been escaping from the concrete trapping it.” She traced the length of the crack once more before letting her hand fall.

Kurt stared at the brick with a sort of stunned disbelief. Though he had hoped magic would be the answer, he hadn’t honestly expected it to be. Now he had to accept the fact that magic was real; it was real and had caused Blaine to travel through time. The idea had been slowly dawning on him since the night Blaine had told him his secret – he didn’t believe it was scientifically possible to travel through time and so magic was really the only other possible cause. And now it turned out that was the case. It was a lot to take in.

Blaine also seemed to be struggling with the bombshell they had just been hit with.

“It really was magic that brought me here?” he asked in a stunned voice.

Kayleigh turned away from the wall to face them. She nodded. “It looks that way. I’ll have to test the strength of the magic in the area, but it looks highly likely.” She looked between their shell-shocked faces, her eyes understanding. “As for whether you can return home, I’m not so sure. You need a very highly concentrated pulse of magic to time travel, and that may have only accumulated in the concrete due to being trapped for some time and then burst free just as you happened to be nearby. I don’t know if it will be possible to harness enough magic to enable you to get home.”

A sudden thought struck Kurt, snapping him out of his silent surprise.

“Even if you can get the magic for Blaine to go home, how can you control where he’s being sent to? How can you make sure he’s going back to his own time and not some other year?”

“It’s simple physics,” Kayleigh replied, shrugging. “Blaine being here is an imbalance, the universe will want to right itself, so when it has the energy to do so it will send him back to where he was.”

Blaine frowned. “Will it be like no time has passed? Like this-” he waved his hand to indicate everything around him from the bright lights of modern-day New York to Kurt standing by his side “-never happened?”

Fear tightened every muscle in Kurt’s body. No.

Worrying on her bottom lip with her teeth, Kayleigh’s expression abruptly became strained. “I- I don’t know. No one really knows anything about time travel; none of my ancestors or anyone who practiced magic here was ever able to achieve it.”

Breathing shallow and heart pounding in erratic terror, Kurt turned to look at Blaine to find his boyfriend already staring at him, the same fear he was experiencing reflected in his eyes.

~ * ~

“You know, if you want to go home you can,” Kurt said, speaking suddenly after a period of content silence while they ate dinner.  
Blaine looked up from his mostly full plate. He had been toying with his food since they’d sat down to eat, a nagging thought at the back of his mind curbing his appetite. He watched Kurt chew a mouthful of food, feeling uneasy – he didn’t like where this conversation was going.

“Your family, friends, and everything you know is back there,” Kurt continued. “I can’t expect you to leave all that for me.”

Blaine stabbed at a piece of pasta, a horrible, burning feeling of hurt and worthlessness rising up inside him. He heaved out a deep, shaky sigh, trying his best to hold back the flood of emotions.

“I- It feels a bit like you can’t wait for me to go home and you don’t want me to stay,” he admitted in a small voice, voicing the thoughts that had been disturbing him since they visited Kayleigh.

Silence met his response and he stabbed agitatedly at some of his food, before setting down his fork and cautiously peeking up at Kurt.

As soon as he met Kurt’s eyes, Kurt spoke.

“Oh, Blaine,” he said softly. His face had fallen into a more sober expression, his mouth turned down at the corners. “That’s not what I meant at all.” When Blaine only ducked his head, saying nothing, Kurt pushed his chair back and came round the table, dropping down into the empty chair next to him. He touched the back of Blaine’s right hand lightly, and the fact that he was hesitant about taking his hand made tears prickle at the back of Blaine’s eyes. He curled his fingers around Kurt’s, keeping his gaze on his knees as he fought to keep control of his emotions.

Kurt rubbed at his hand gratefully, the slow movement of his thumb soothing.

“When I talk of wanting to help you go home I’m thinking of how I would feel in your situation, how much I would be missing my dad, my friends, the familiarity of home…” He shifted in his chair, his free hand coming up to cup Blaine’s cheek. At his touch, Blaine lifted his eyes to look at him. “It will kill me if you leave, but I couldn’t bear it if you wanted to go home but couldn’t. Some day the reality of what staying here means will hit and I would hate for you to feel trapped here; hate it even more of it was only because of me you were staying.” He smoothed his thumb over the length of Blaine’s cheekbone and Blaine closed his eyes. “This decision has nothing to do with me. Do what makes you happy, but even if you stay I want you to know how to get home in case things change.”

Blaine leant into Kurt’s hand, imagining this all gone, never being able to see Kurt again, and not feeling free and happy with his life. He imagined having to go back to hiding and constantly feeling defeated, exhausted, and miserable as he lived to try and please his parents. He didn’t think he could handle returning to that after experiencing all of this.

“I want to stay,” he whispered – even he could hear the pure need in his voice. He rubbed his cheek against the palm of Kurt’s hand. “I want to stay,” he repeated, breathing the words into Kurt’s cupped hand.

“Then stay,” Kurt whispered.

Opening his eyes, Blaine looked up at his boyfriend, at the torn look in his eyes, the mixed feelings of hope, relief, worry, and guilt. Darting forwards, Blaine pressed his lips to Kurt’s in a desperate kiss, deepening it when Kurt’s lips began to move against his own. After a moment, Kurt dropped Blaine’s hand and slid his arm around Blaine’s waist, using it to pull him closer. His lips parted against Blaine’s, his breath puffing out in short pants against Blaine’s mouth.

“Stay,” Kurt breathed out one time when he pulled away slightly to breathe.

Blaine slid his hand up Kurt’s arm to tangle in the hair at the back of his neck upon hearing this, holding on tightly to his life in the future and the man he was falling in love with.


	10. Chapter 10

Now that Blaine had made the decision to stay in the future he devoted his time, once spent researching how he could get home, looking into actually making a life in the modern time. Up until now, he’d been living here like he was on a vacation of sorts and that couldn’t continue now that he was here for good. He hit a snag almost straight away. Looking at entry into a college course to study music, he realised it would be impossible for him to get in. He hadn’t just left his friends and family back in 1923, but his own past as well. His qualifications from high school, all his papers – his entire past was worthless in this time. Everything that had happened in his life up to the day he’d arrived in the twenty-first century was now useless. 

Slumping back into his chair, Blaine stared dejectedly at the laptop screen currently displaying the details for the music degree he’d never be able to study. With no valid high school qualifications and no education history he could reveal there was no way he could get into college. And it wasn’t only college that was the problem – would he be able to get any job or live his life to the full without a past? 

He rubbed his hand over his face, blocking his view of the computer screen. He hadn’t really thought this through. He’d thought long and hard about the emotional aspects of staying, of leaving his friends and family and everything he knew behind, but he’d given very little thought to the practical ones. Staying in this time was supposed to give him the freedom he couldn’t get back in the twenties, but it looked like he wouldn’t be able to completely achieve his dreams here, either. He couldn’t get in to study music, and probably couldn’t get any sort of job to earn some money to support himself. He couldn’t keep living off of Kurt, cruising through life doing nothing all day. He wanted to live the life he’d always dreamed of: making a living from his music and going home to the love of his life each night; but with no papers or history and the year 1901 printed on his birth certificate, it all looked very unlikely. 

Feeling defeated, Blaine shut down the computer, averting his eyes from the screen as he closed the webpage on the college course of his dreams. Getting to his feet, he crossed the apartment slowly and sank down on the window seat in a trance-like state, barely seeing the view of the street through the window. 

What if, after making the decision to stay and getting his hopes up over living in an almost idealistic world with Kurt, he was forced to return to his own time? Maybe the reason why the characters in all the time travel fiction he’d pursued over the last few weeks had returned to their own time was because they couldn’t actually live in a time other than their own. When he thought about it, it made sense: the world and its people changed and advanced so much as years went by, a person from a time many years apart would find it difficult to integrate themselves, and that was even without considering the problem with identity. Identity was such a big issue; he couldn’t believe he’d never thought about it before. Birth certificates, passports, licences… Proving who you were was even more of an issue these days from what he’d gathered, but even if he hadn’t known he should have thought he would be required to show someone his date of birth or something to do with his past at some point, especially after deciding to live here. He’d been so ignorant.

Blinking his eyes back into focus and looking away from the window he’d been staring unseeingly out of, Blaine checked the time on his pocket watch and his spirits lifted; Kurt would be home from work soon; he’d be able to talk this mess through with him and maybe, hopefully, even have a solution. And he’d get to see Kurt, which never failed to brighten his mood. Even seeing him every day didn’t diminish the happiness and warmth he felt upon seeing his boyfriend. 

Now that he was watching the time with anticipation it seemed to drag, each minute crawling by at a frustratingly slow pace. He tried to pass the time by watching the street out the window and soon found himself once again marvelling at the modern world, something he still did on a daily basis. It would be a while before he would be able to go a day without admiring some aspect of twenty-first century living, and he wondered if he’d ever stop comparing the two eras he’d experienced. 

As he watched the world go by he remembered Kurt’s question from a few weeks back, the one he’d asked as they’d stood in Time’s Square after a day of wandering round the city: had things changed for the better or for worse? 

Back then he hadn’t been sure of his answer – he didn’t feel he’d experienced enough of this time to give a true answer – but he’d been here a little longer now, had decided to stay here… 

Giving an answer wasn’t any easier than it had been back when Kurt had first asked. He still wanted to give the same vague response as he had done before: some things had changed for the better, but some not so much. The increasing abandonment of the old, close-minded attitudes was definitely a good thing, as was the greater freedom in self-expression, whether that be through opinions or fashion. In some ways, this time was less rigid and more laidback, but in others less so. More advances in science and technology had greatly improved the world, but he had his doubts about others. Like cell phones – sure, it was fantastic being able to always contact your friends and family, but they seemed to replace actual social contact a lot of the time, plus from what he’d seen they caused longer working hours. During commuting and lunch breaks people worked from their phones, and he’d seen Kurt receiving calls and emails from his boss on weekends. Back in his time when you left work for the day that was it, you didn’t have anything to do with it until you returned for the next day’s work. Life seemed more work-driven and stressful these days. 

A key turned in the lock and Blaine spun away from the window, pulling himself out of his musings and feeling the corners of his mouth tug up into a welcoming smile as the door opened and Kurt entered the apartment. 

“Blaine?” he called out, eyes on the box in his hands as he juggled it and his door keys. “I’m home, honey!” 

Getting to his feet, Blaine walked over to greet him. “Honey?” 

Kurt’s eyes snapped up, his smile widening when his gaze met Blaine’s, before embarrassment began to creep into his eyes. His cheeks flushed a light pink. “Did I-? Sorry, too cheesy?” 

Blaine shook his head, smiling brightly as he moved closer to kiss him. “I like it,” he admitted, the warmth still swirling pleasantly in his belly from hearing the affectionate pet name. He took the box out of Kurt’s hands, allowing him to shrug off his satchel. “What’s in the box?” He peered down at it curiously, not recognising the name stamped across the lid. 

“Cake,” Kurt replied brightly, leading the way through to the kitchen. Following him, Blaine watched his shoulders lift in a shrug. “I passed a bakery on the way home and just thought it would be nice. Rachel’s home for dinner tonight, but she can’t have any ‘cause it’s not vegan.” He was leaning against the counter now, a small smirk on his face. 

Blaine looked at him. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” 

Kurt’s smirk widened. “Maybe…” Blaine poked at his waist, causing Kurt to squirm away from him. “I feel like eating cake and I don’t particularly feel like sharing it,” he said, laughing. 

Setting the box of cake down on the counter, Blaine pouted at him. “Not even with me?” 

Kurt pretended to consider this for a moment, before bending down to kiss Blaine’s pout. “I’ll make an exception for you.” He turned away to grab some ingredients for dinner from the cupboard. “How was your day?” 

Blaine sobered, his smile fading as everything from earlier rushed back to the forefront of his mind, dampening the light cheeriness he’d felt upon Kurt’s arrival. He watched Kurt smile softly as he pulled vegetables out of the fridge. He wondered if he should keep his worries to himself for the time being; he didn’t particularly want to put a downer on the evening, not when Kurt was happy and carefree and had spontaneously bought a cake. 

“Blaine?” 

Kurt had stopped and was peering at him with his brow furrowed in concern. Blaine forced a smile, deciding to tell Kurt about it later, not wanting to spoil what was looking to be an enjoyable evening. 

He gave his head a small shake. “Sorry. My day was good, thank you. How was work? Did your meeting go ok?” His reply sounded stiff to his own ears. 

Kurt wasn’t to be fooled. He narrowed his eyes slightly and took a step closer. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “What happened?” 

“Noth-” Blaine cut off his false assurance when Kurt folded his arms in front of his chest and gave him a look which plainly said he wasn’t going to accept any lies. Blaine sighed in defeat. 

“I started looking into college courses for music today.” 

Kurt’s frown deepened into one of confusion. 

Blaine lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I don’t know why I never realised this before – I was looking at the admission requirements and I realised: I don’t have a valid history: no academic past, no references, no paperwork of any kind – my birth certificate has the year 1901 on it!” He swallowed thickly. “I don’t know if I can stay here, Kurt.” 

Kurt’s mouth opened and then closed again. He obviously hadn’t thought of this either. He lifted his right hand up to his forehead, pinching the skin there between his thumb and forefinger as he frowned in thought. Blaine watched him in silence, his hope he would present some magic solution fading with every passing second. 

“This won’t hold you back from anything,” Kurt said determinedly without looking up. 

Blaine didn’t respond to this, thinking Kurt was only trying to keep his hopes up. 

“You can get a high school diploma, no problem. As for the rest of it, well, there are other ways to get the papers you need.” 

Blaine had to say something now. “How?” he asked. 

Lowering his hand, Kurt turned his head to look at him. His eyes were distant and unfocused, lost in whatever plan was brewing in his head. And there was something else there, too; something like shame – Blaine couldn’t really describe it, but it didn’t bode well for whatever Kurt was thinking. 

“There are people out there who make a living out of forging identities for people – passports, driver’s licences, birth certificates: you name it, they make it.” 

Unease stirred inside Blaine like a tiny creature in his gut. He probably should have been feeling hopeful, but he couldn’t help but worry about where this was going. He didn’t like the sound of it. 

Kurt shifted his weight to his other foot, looking decidedly uncomfortable with what he was saying. “Some of them do a really good job and fool the authorities with their work,” he continued. He couldn’t look Blaine in the eye as he spoke, choosing instead to dart his gaze around the kitchen. “We could go to one of these people – one of the better ones – and get you a valid birth certificate – anything you need to live here.” 

Blaine bit his lip. It was more than just unease upsetting his stomach now. “Are you suggesting we break the law?” he asked slowly. He knew the answer, but was stunned at what Kurt was suggesting and needed to hear his justifications behind it. 

“I don’t think we really have any other option,” Kurt replied. 

Blaine stared at him, still trying to wrap his mind around what Kurt was suggesting. “And you’ll do that? You’ll break the law for me?” 

Kurt nodded. “I said I’d do everything I could to help you. What you want may have changed, but my promise hasn’t.” 

Blaine stepped closer to Kurt and wrapped his arms around his waist, pulling him into a hug. He nuzzled his head closer to Kurt’s neck when his arms slid up to hold him close. 

“Thank you,” Blaine whispered, “for everything.” 

Kurt rubbed his back in response, ducking his head and pressing a kiss to Blaine’s temple. Blaine closed his eyes and allowed himself to get lost in the feeling of being held. Nobody had ever hugged him like this before; his parents weren’t overly affectionate people, he’d never been in a relationship before, and it wasn’t considered right for two male friends to hug each other more than the one-armed pat on the back. It was nice – more than nice. It soothed him, calming his frayed nerves and released the tension from his muscles, but at the same time being so close to Kurt sent sharp sparks of pleasure through him and made his heart beat in a whole new rhythm. It was such a simple gesture, hugging, yet it made him feel incredible. 

Kurt’s hold on him tightened and Blaine rubbed his cheek a little against Kurt’s shoulder. Kurt’s scent was all around him, filling his nostrils each time he breathed, and it was simultaneously comforting and seductive. He inhaled deeply and turned his head to kiss Kurt’s shoulder. 

“Blaine…” Kurt breathed, smoothing a hand down Blaine’s spine, his touch leaving behind a trail of warmth and pleasurable shivers. 

They were both so lost in each other that they didn’t hear the front door thud shut or the sound of Rachel calling out a greeting. They both started when she entered the kitchen and spoke. 

“You two are adorable.” 

Feeling a little annoyed at the interruption, Blaine stepped back out of Kurt’s embrace. A blush warmed his cheeks at Rachel’s words and from being caught in an intimate moment. He ducked his head bashfully when Rachel looked his way. 

“This is why I’ve been spending more time out lately. I feel like I’m always imposing on a private moment when I’m around you guys,” Rachel said, leaning against the counter. 

“It’s like you have your own little world or something.” 

Blaine looked up and met Kurt’s gaze. He knew he was thinking the same as he was: how it did feel like they were in their own private world when they were together, separate from the millions crowding the New York streets, and where everything seemed just that little bit brighter. 

Rachel had spotted the cake box and was now lifting its lid curiously. “Ooh, who bought cake?” she asked keenly. 

Kurt tore his eyes away from Blaine. “It’s not vegan,” he informed her. The teasing smirk from earlier was back. 

Rachel whipped around to glare at him. “Kurt!” 

“What?” he asked innocently. 

Rachel rested her hands on her hips. “What did we agree about bringing home baked goods?” 

“They should be vegan, share with your best friend- yeah, yeah,” Kurt brushed off with a roll of his eyes. “But most of the time the non-vegan stuff is better.” 

Rachel pushed herself away from the counter. “Fine,” she conceded, “don’t think of me.” She began walking out of the kitchen. “Enjoy your cake – I hope you choke on it,” she added teasingly over her shoulder, before disappearing in the direction of her room. 

“Drama queen,” Kurt muttered. 

“I heard that!” 

“You love the title!” Kurt shouted back in her direction. “Don’t deny it!” 

Blaine smiled at their antics as Kurt turned back to him, an amused smile still playing on his lips. 

“Still want to stay here?” Kurt asked lightly. “You’ll have to eat vegan desserts or suffer Rachel’s whining.” 

Blaine laughed and started helping Kurt to prepare dinner. Watching Kurt and Rachel had brought back memories of the number of times he and Wes had thrown teasing remarks at each other and argued mildly over silly things. A small wave of homesickness and sadness washed over him, but it was weaker than the previous ones that had engulfed him in the past, the pain and yearning for home duller, easier to ignore. It was more a gentle lapping of the sea on a calm day than a tsunami wave force. He was sure he would always miss Wes and his family, but standing here in Kurt’s kitchen, his boyfriend’s hip bumping affectionately against his own, he could say with confidence the pros of staying out-weighed the cons. 

There must have been something in his expression, for Kurt placed a hand on his arm, turning him away from the salad he was preparing. 

“You’ll be able to make the life you dreamt of having here; I promise,” he said softly. 

It hadn’t been what Blaine was worrying about, but he nodded and accepted Kurt’s kiss all the same. As Kurt stroked his cheek and tilted his head to deepen the kiss, he hoped the homesickness wouldn’t return to tsunami force again and threaten to destroy the life he was trying to build here, or his relationship with Kurt. 

After doing a bit of research and contacting an old college friend of Kurt’s who had once purchased a fake I.D., they found someone who would be able to make the documents Blaine needed. They were both extremely uncomfortable with the whole business, but they had no other choice and Kurt insisted it would be fine, that people did it all the time. Still, they both kept their heads low and wore sunglasses and nondescript clothing when they went to obtain the documents from a place that fronted as a print shop. Blaine kept expecting police to jump out and arrest them, a feeling that stayed with him long after they left the shop, forged papers in hand, so he spent the evening on tenterhooks, jumping when Rachel came home and when the phone rang. 

He didn’t particularly like the idea of staying at the apartment alone the next day while Kurt and Rachel were both at work, but the thought of going out somewhere – as Kurt kept suggesting he do – appealed to him even less, so he stayed in, looking at college degrees again to try and keep himself from fretting over the illegal papers now sitting in his room. He kept telling himself that without those papers he couldn’t live here, couldn’t live the life he had chosen and dreamed of, but it didn’t ease his worries any. 

He felt a little better when he applied to get his high school diploma. Once the six month course was complete a number of opportunities would be open to him – it was the first step to getting a place on the college course of his dreams. 

Having read up on everything to do with music degrees at various colleges in New York, Blaine was left with little to do. Kurt wasn’t due home for another couple of hours, he still didn’t particularly want to go out anywhere, and had reached the point where he’d been sitting doing something for so long he had become too lazy to go do anything else. He flicked aimlessly through the internet, looking at anything and everything that came to mind, his eyes drifting to the little clock at the bottom of the screen every now and then as he counted down the hours until Kurt was due home. 

He was looking at the websites of various music stores in the city when a small advertisement on one of them caught his eye. He sat up straighter in his chair and pulled the laptop a little closer to him. 

It was an advertisement for a piano teacher to give lessons to mostly beginner to intermediate-level children. They were looking for someone to start immediately to give lessons four afternoons and two evenings a week at a small store not too far from the apartment. 

Blaine re-read the advertisement longingly. It sounded ideal; something to do with himself until he began college and a way to earn money so he wouldn’t have to rely on Kurt so much. He sighed as he looked at the brief list of requirements. They didn’t mention any kind of qualification, but surely they would want that; they wouldn’t employ someone with no professional experience in music. 

He gazed at the advert wistfully for a moment longer, before clicking off the website and shutting down the computer. He could wish all he wanted but he’d never be able to get a job like that, no matter how perfect for him it would be. 

Though he’d done it two days previously, he spent the hour and a half until Kurt was due home cleaning the apartment: vacuuming the already clean floors and wiping down the spotless surfaces. He threw all his concentration into the task, scrubbing vigorously at the gleaming kitchen sink until there was a light sheen of sweat on his lower back and forehead. He worked hard so there was no time for his mind to linger over how useless he was in this time. 

When Kurt arrived home he did his best to pretend everything was fine: kissing him in greeting and smiling to hide how much he felt like a waste of space. He did a good job of fooling him until they sat down to dinner and he caught Kurt watching him closely with a concerned furrow to his brow. He should have known he wouldn’t be able to hide how he was feeling from Kurt; for some reason Kurt had always been able to read him better than even Wes or his parents. 

“I feel useless,” he declared, not even waiting for Kurt to say anything. “I sit around here all day while you and Rachel are off at work. I have nothing to do, no purpose in the world anymore.” He set his knife and fork down, breathing heavily from the flood of emotion. 

Kurt set his cutlery down as well. “Blaine…” His hand twitched where it rested on the table, as though he were itching to reach across and take Blaine’s hand. “You can’t think like that.” He shifted in his chair, looking pleadingly at Blaine as the other man tried to look away. “There’s maybe not all that much you can do now, but soon you’ll be working towards getting your diploma and after that you’ll be in college.” When Blaine said nothing in response, just continued to stare stonily ahead, Kurt added, “What brought this on?” 

Sighing heavily, Blaine let his head fall back until he was looking up at the ceiling. “There is a job being advertised at the moment for someone to teach piano at a music store not far from here.” He raised a hand to run it through his hair in distress, letting it fall back into his lap when his fingertips brushed his gelled locks. “It sounds so perfect for me – if only it were possible for me to get it.” 

“Oh, Blaine,” Kurt murmured gently. He hesitated, licking his lips quickly, before saying in the same soft tones, “You know you don’t have to get a job. You don’t need to pay me rent or anything; you work enough for that.” 

Blaine looked back at Kurt and shook his head. “It’s not about the money, not really. It’s having something to do, something other than waiting for the days to pass until I can start college. I’m sitting here wishing time away and I can’t stand living like this much longer. I want to contribute to the world, do something I enjoy, have a life.” 

“Did the advert ask for someone qualified?” 

“No,” Blaine replied. He squinted a little as he tried to remember exactly what the advertisement had said. “It asked for someone experienced on the piano, good with children, patient, and with a good sense of fun,” he recalled. 

“Then why shouldn’t you be able to get it? You’re certainly proficient enough on the piano – I’ve heard you play.” 

Blaine poked at the handle of his fork. “They might not explicitly ask for a qualification, but they’ll want one.” 

“But if you tick all the other boxes they might not care,” Kurt countered. He stretched his hand across the table and placed it on top of Blaine’s, enfolding his boyfriend’s hand in his own. “What’s the harm in trying?” 

Blaine took in Kurt’s encouraging smile and loving, hopeful gaze, and softened. Kurt was right: he wouldn’t lose anything by applying for the job and seeing what they said; after all, they might surprise him and give him the job. 

“Ok,” he said, returning the pressure of Kurt’s hand. “I’ll go around to the store tomorrow and apply.” 

Kurt beamed at him. “You’d make a fantastic piano teacher; they’d be silly to turn you down.” 

Blaine knew that while Kurt was being truthful, he was only saying that in a natural, encouraging response to Blaine’s decision, but it made him feel better and more confident all the same. 

 

~ * ~

Once again, Kurt spent a workday eager for it to end. Back before he’d met Blaine he’d never counted down the hours at work, wishing for the end of the day to arrive so he could go home. He used to love being at his work, sometimes staying later to finish up working on a design, and while he still enjoyed it, he was less enthusiastic about spending his days there; he’d much rather be at home with Blaine. It was a nice change: looking forward to going home instead of dreading the return to an empty apartment and a lonely dinner. 

Today, however, he wasn’t just looking forward to seeing Blaine and spending the evening with him; he was desperate to know if Blaine had gotten the job at the music store. He’d seen how much Blaine had wanted it, how much he wanted something in his life beyond being his boyfriend, and he hoped his wishes hadn’t been shot down. 

He entered the apartment that evening with the air of a teenager sneaking into the house hours after curfew: heart beating fast and expecting bad news around every corner.

It didn’t take him long to find Blaine. His boyfriend was seated at the old upright piano Rachel used for practicing her singing and Kurt occasionally messed around on when the mood struck him. Blaine wasn’t playing, but his hands were resting on the keys as if he had been playing but had stopped when Kurt had arrived. He was staring silently down at the keys, not looking around at the sound of Kurt’s approaching footsteps. Kurt’s heart sunk – that wasn’t a good sign. 

With disappointment and sympathy filling him, Kurt sat down next to Blaine on the piano bench and waited for him to speak. When he didn’t, Kurt placed a hand on his shoulder, rubbing it with his thumb. His touch seemed to jolt Blaine into speech. 

“I got the job,” he whispered numbly. 

“I’m sorry-” Kurt began, and then his brain caught up with his mouth and he realised what Blaine had said. “Wait, what?” 

Blaine turned to look at him, his hands sliding off the piano keys to rest in his lap. “I got the job,” he repeated. “I start tomorrow.” He looked like he couldn’t believe it. 

“Blaine…” A delighted smile spread slowly across Kurt’s face. “That’s- That’s wonderful!” He ducked down and kissed a now-smiling Blaine’s cheek. “I told you they’d be stupid not to hire you. You’ll be a fantastic piano teacher.” He threw his arms around Blaine and pulled him into a hug, his heart squeezing fondly at the sound of Blaine’s delighted laugh. 

“I can’t tell you how happy I am I got this job,” Blaine murmured into Kurt’s ear. “Working in music – I never would have been able to do that in my own time. It was law or nothing.” 

Kurt rubbed his back once more before pulling back. “We have to celebrate!” he said excitedly. He jumped to his feet and hurried through to the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge’s contents, searching for the bottle he’d watched Rachel place into it several months ago. “Champagne!” he announced triumphantly, holding the bottle up to show Blaine. 

Pulling the cover down over the piano keys, Blaine stood up. “We don’t have to drink champagne. It’s only a part-time job; it’s not that big of a deal.” 

“It’s not just a job, Blaine,” Kurt argued, setting the bottle down on the counter and taking two glasses out of the cupboard. “It’s laying the foundation to you living here permanently. It’s your first step towards the career in music you always dreamed of. Of course we should celebrate it.” 

He carefully popped the cork of the champagne and poured some into the glasses as Blaine joined him in the kitchen. With a smile Kurt reached for his glass and held it aloft. “To living your dreams,” he toasted. 

“To living your dreams,” Blaine echoed, raising his own glass and clinking it against Kurt’s. 

Kurt watched Blaine over the rim of his glass as he sipped at his champagne, the golden bubbles bursting and fizzing on his tongue. He didn’t think he’d ever been this happy for someone achieving something they desperately wanted, not even when Rachel got her NYADA acceptance letter. Rachel getting into NYADA had always been pretty much a guarantee, there had never been much doubt she would get into the prestigious school, but there had been so much uncertainty surrounding the possibility of Blaine living here and having the life he’d always wanted, but now it was beginning to look like it would all be possible. 

They were almost finished their second glass when Rachel arrived home, dressed in black leggings and an oversized t-shirt under her coat and scarf, her hair pulled up in a messy ponytail. 

“I can’t stay long,” she said quickly when she spotted them sitting on the couch. “I’m just grabbing a couple of things and then I need to get back to the theatre.” Her gaze landed on the half-empty champagne bottle sitting on the coffee table. “Is that my final show champagne?” She marched over to the coffee table and snatched the bottle up, examining the label closely. 

“I’ll buy you another bottle,” Kurt promised quickly, sensing an explosion of Rachel Berry proportions. 

Rachel glared at him. “You knew why I was saving this bottle – why did you have to drink it? Couldn’t you have bought another?” 

Kurt rolled his eyes. “Your production doesn’t even have a date set for its final show; it may be years away. I’ll buy you another bottle,” he promised again. “And I couldn’t buy another because I didn’t know we would have something to celebrate tonight.” 

Setting the bottle back down, Rachel looked between Kurt and Blaine, a hint of curiosity behind her annoyance. “Oh? And what are we celebrating?” 

Kurt shared a brief look with Blaine; he nodded. “Blaine got a job today,” Kurt announced with a proud smile. “He’s now a piano teacher.” 

Rachel frowned at Blaine. “You’ve got a job? But I thought you were only going to be here for a year?” 

Kurt tried not to let his smile fall or to look over at Blaine. They hadn’t discussed this, but with Blaine now staying here permanently they would have to tell Rachel the truth sometime soon. 

“Since I’ve decided to spend my entire year off here I thought I’d do something part time while Kurt is at work so I’m not spending a year doing very little,” Blaine lied smoothly. 

Kurt was reminded of how Blaine had been lying every day for years before he had travelled to this time. “Music is one of my greatest passions. When I saw the job advert it was too good an opportunity to pass up.” 

“Oh,” Rachel said again, this time in a surprised tone. “Well, congratulations. I guess you do deserve the champagne,” she admitted grudgingly. 

Catching sight of the time on the kitchen clock, she snatched up her purse from where she’d dropped it on the coffee table and dashed away towards her room with a muttered, “Shit.” She was back less than a minute later, stuffing something into her purse. “I’ll see you guys later. Enjoy my champagne!” 

The door slammed behind her. Kurt turned his head to look at Blaine. He could tell by Blaine’s expression he was thinking the same thing he was. 

“We have to tell her soon,” Kurt said quietly. 

Blaine nodded. “I know.” He glanced down at where their hands were still entwined between them. “She’s going to freak out, isn’t she?” he said, looking up at Kurt through his long eyelashes. 

“Probably,” Kurt agreed. “But she won’t tell anyone if we tell her not to. Her loyalty and ability to keep secrets has improved a lot since high school.” 

Blaine took another sip of his drink before lowering his head to rest in Kurt’s shoulder. “I feel rather bad about drinking the champagne she was saving.” 

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Kurt told him. “Like I said, she was saving it for something that is months away, and I will buy her a replacement bottle.” 

“I know you will. I still can’t help but feel bad; she seemed really annoyed.” 

“And even though she’s being ridiculous and it was my idea to drink it you still feel guilty because you are unbelievably polite and have more empathy than anyone I’ve ever met,” Kurt said fondly. He kissed Blaine’s head. 

“My parents and school put a big emphasis on manners,” Blaine replied. 

Kurt swirled his champagne around his glass thoughtfully. “Everyone was more polite and dignified in the twenties – or it seems that way in books and movies.” 

Blaine made a small noise in his throat. “Some people were more formal and well-mannered, it’s true, but there were those that were not.” He shifted against Kurt, nuzzling a little closer. “Values and attitudes change. And while it might seem romantic looking back on how it was in the twenties, it certainly didn’t feel that way living in that time.” Kurt felt him smile against his shoulder. “And I can’t see you managing to stick to the strict conformities on dress and behaviour.” 

“Blaine Anderson, are you saying I can’t be classy?” Kurt asked in mock horror. He shoved playfully at his boyfriend making him lift his head and send him his favourite smile. 

“Maybe,” he said cheekily. 

“I can be perfectly classy,” Kurt sniffed. He lifted his glass of champagne and sipped from it daintily. When he lowered his glass, Blaine lunged forward and kissed him fiercely, licking at the seam of his lips until Kurt parted them and allowed him to lick at his tongue. When he eventually pulled back Kurt was gasping. 

“That wasn’t very gentlemanly of you,” Kurt panted. 

Blaine grinned wickedly. He straightened his bowtie and smoothed a hand over his neatly gelled hair, looking at Kurt with innocent eyes. 

“Dammit,” Kurt muttered, grabbing a fistful of Blaine’s shirt and crashing their lips together again. 

They were still kissing when Rachel returned home from her show, exchanging lazy, slow kisses as they cuddled together on the couch, some long-forgotten TV show playing in the background. 

“Can’t you guys save that for the bedroom?” Rachel complained, dumping her keys on the table by the front door. 

Kurt smiled and rubbed his nose against Blaine’s before tilting his head for another kiss, his entire body rejoicing at the feel of Blaine’s soft lips against his own and the taste of him filling his mouth. 

He heard Rachel sniff loudly. “You two are disgustingly cute.” 

Blaine pulled back, smiling at Kurt’s small noise of protest. “Sorry,” he said, looking up at Rachel. “We didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable or anything.” 

“You didn’t-” Rachel began to protest, but Blaine smiled sincerely at her and she fell silent. 

Blaine nudged Kurt in the ribs, making him sit up. Kurt pouted at him. They didn’t have to stop cuddling because Rachel was there. 

Blaine squeezed his hand. “I’ll be back in a minute – bathroom,” he explained, standing up and walking out the room. Kurt watched him go, admiring the stretch of his shirt over his strong shoulders and back, his small waist, and the curve of his ass in the fitted pants he was wearing. 

He didn’t notice Rachel taking Blaine’s vacated spot, but when he looked round once Blaine had disappeared from view she was there. 

“Looks like things with Blaine are going well,” she commented. 

Kurt frowned, his guard immediately going up. Rachel’s words were light and conversational, but he could sense there was more to it, that she had been waiting for a moment like this when they were alone. There was something she wanted to talk to him about Blaine or, more likely, something she wanted to ask him about Blaine. He could see the calculating questions coming almost as though they were stamped on her forehead. 

“Yes,” Kurt agreed, speaking slowly as he tried to figure out where Rachel was going with her comment. “We really care about each other.” 

Rachel nodded. “That’s good,” she said distractedly. “I couldn’t help but notice, though, that over the last week or so you’ve been looking a little…worried whenever Blaine wasn’t around to see it.” 

Kurt’s frown deepened, a flicker of annoyance sparking up inside him. “Didn’t you hear me? I just said-” 

“I should have been around more to keep an eye on things,” Rachel interrupted, plainly not listening to a word he was saying. “I told myself I would do that. I don’t want your relationship with Blaine to go the same way as your one with Liam did. I don’t want to see you hurt like that again.” 

“Rachel!” Kurt said loudly. He placed his hands on her shoulders and she finally focused her gaze on him. “It’s not what you think – everything is perfectly fine between Blaine and I – more than fine, actually. I haven’t been this happy in a long time.” 

Rachel nibbled on her bottom lip. “I just thought-” 

“You were worried for me, I know,” Kurt said quietly. “And I appreciate your concern, but it wasn’t anything to do with Blaine that I was worrying about,” he assured her. 

“It wasn’t?” 

“It wasn’t,” Kurt said firmly, ignoring the small twinge of guilt her felt. Because it had been Blaine he had been worrying about. He understood what Rachel was talking about now: it was those moments when Blaine hadn’t been in the same room when he’d been fretting over whether or not it was best for Blaine to stay in this time rather than return to his own. The worries had been circling to the forefront of his mind whenever Blaine wasn’t around to ask him what it was that was bothering him. He should have expected Rachel to notice. 

“What’s been bothering you, then?” Rachel asked curiously. Most of the concern had cleared from her expression. 

Kurt waved a hand airily. “Just work stuff,” he said offhandedly. “We’re under a lot of pressure to make this next collection as successful as the last.” 

This wasn’t a lie, he was under a fair amount of pressure at work for this very reason, but he wasn’t having any trouble handling it. A year of working for the label had him used to the demands and stress of the job. 

He heard footsteps behind him and glanced over his shoulder, smiling automatically when he saw Blaine approaching them. 

“I never really realised how stressful working in fashion could be before you started working in it,” Rachel commented as Blaine sat down on Kurt’s other side. “I mean, I’ve seen ‘The Devil Wears Prada’, but-” 

Kurt’s phone began to ring loudly, cutting her off. She fell silent as Kurt pulled his phone from his pocket and looked down at the screen. His thumb hovered over the button to accept the call. 

He wanted – needed – to take this call in private, out of earshot of Rachel, but with her shuffling through papers on the coffee table in an effort to discreetly avoid listening in to his phone call, he couldn’t see a way of excusing himself without triggering her suspicions. 

The phone rang again and Rachel shot him a brief look, no doubt wondering why he wasn’t answering the call. 

Hoping he could avoid saying anything that would make Rachel curious, Kurt answered the call. 

“Hi, Kayleigh.”


	11. Chapter 11

Rachel looked round curiously again and Kurt fought to keep his expression neutral.

“Hey, Kurt,” Kayleigh replied brightly. “Just calling to give you an update on Blaine’s time travel.”

“Oh, ok. What did you find out?” Kurt snuck another look at Rachel to find her straightening a stack of fashion magazines on the coffee table. A small wave of relief washed over him – it had been a while since he had done any acting and he wasn’t sure how well he would be able to feign nonchalance with Rachel watching so closely.

“The area outside that café is a very old site of magic, so the magic is definitely concentrated enough to enable Blaine to travel home,” Kayleigh said. “I’ll have to harness a lot of magic from deep within the Earth to get him home, which won’t be easy, but I’m pretty positive I can do it.”

Closing his eyes for a second, Kurt absorbed what he had just heard. Blaine could go home. If things changed, if he ever felt it would be better for him to return to his own time, it would be possible. He now had the peace of mind he needed – and he knew Blaine needed as well even if he hadn’t been that enthusiastic about talking to Kayleigh once he’d decided to stay.

Opening his eyes again, Kurt smiled. “That’s great to hear,” he said carefully, biting back the dozens of questions about the magic and time travel process that had sprung into his mind. 

“If Blaine ever wants to go home then just let me know,” Kayleigh continued. “It may take a day or two to get the magic concentrated enough to send him back, but it’ll be possible.”

“That’s all I wanted to know. Thank you so much,” Kurt said gratefully.

“No problem.”

Kurt looked at Blaine out the corner of his eyes, watching him gaze absently in the direction of the window. “I’ll discuss it with him and I’ll be in touch if-” He hesitated for a beat. “If he decides to go through with it. Thanks again for everything.”

“That’s ok. Tell Blaine I said hi.” 

They said goodbye shortly after that and Blaine looked round as he hung up. Kurt shot him a quick, meaningful glance as he tucked his phone back into his pocket. He wanted to tell Blaine everything Kayleigh had said now, wanted to discuss it all with him now that they finally had what they had been searching for since Blaine had told him his story, but with Rachel in the room and obviously curious about the phone call, it wasn’t possible.

“Are you still doing research for work with Kayleigh?” Rachel asked, setting down the papers she’d been fiddling with, completely dropping her pretence of tidying up the messy table.

Kurt nodded. “Yeah, she was confirming one last thing for me.” He cast his mind about for a change of subject. “How was your show tonight?”

As he’d hoped, talking about Rachel and her career successfully distracted her from the phone call. The subject wasn’t brought up again the rest of the evening and Kurt was relieved that Rachel seemed to have forgotten about it. He was desperate to get Blaine alone so they could talk about not only what Kayleigh had told him, but also about telling Rachel the truth. It was becoming more and more difficult to keep the secret from her as she became increasingly interested in Blaine’s life and his relationship with Kurt. 

Apparently determined to spend more than a couple of hours with them as had become her recent habit, Rachel spent the rest of the evening with them, so when they all finally went to bed Kurt hadn’t told Blaine about what Kayleigh had said. He lay in bed staring across at his desk for a while, thinking about how they would break the truth to Rachel, until he abruptly decided he didn’t want to wait until the following evening to talk to Blaine about it all.

Shoving back his bed covers, he swung his legs out of bed and stood up, running a hand through his hair before padding across the room to his door. He opened his bedroom door quietly, not wanting to wake Rachel, and then tiptoed down the hall to Blaine’s room. Hoping Blaine wasn’t in too deep of a sleep yet, Kurt raised his hand and knocked quietly against the door. He held his breath for a moment, listening carefully, but when he heard no response he eased the door open and stepped into Blaine’s room. 

“Blaine?” he called out softly.

There was a rustle and Blaine sat up in bed, his hair already slightly ruffled from the pillows. In the little light coming from the lamp they always left on in the living room, Kurt could make out Blaine blinking in his direction.

“Kurt?” There was a hint of worry in his voice.

Kurt moved further into the dark room, closing the door silently behind him, shutting out the thin strip of light which had been illuminating Blaine’s bed-ruffled figure on the bed. Blinking rapidly in an effort to help his eyes adjust to the dark, Kurt made his way slowly across the room towards the bed where he could make out the outline of Blaine sitting up watching him. 

“Kurt, are you ok?” Blaine asked quietly. 

There was another rustle of blankets and Kurt saw Blaine reaching to turn on a light. 

“Leave the light off,” Kurt told him. The ever-brightening outline of Blaine sat back; Kurt could just make out a small confused frown on his face. “We don’t need a light on.”

He didn’t know why he said that, but there was an intimacy about the hushed silence of the dark room that he didn’t want to lose.

Eyes now adjusted to the lack of light, Kurt covered the short distance between him and the bed, stopping when he reached the head of it. He smiled reassuringly in response to Blaine’s concerned look.

“I’m fine,” he whispered. “I just needed to talk to you about something and with Rachel being around all evening…” He hesitantly fingered with the edge of the bed covers. “Can I-?”

Swallowing, Blaine nodded. “Y- Yeah,” he breathed in a trembling whisper.

Kurt pulled back the duvet and climbed carefully into the bed. He lay down somewhat stiffly, suddenly nervous of brushing any part of Blaine. He was barely breathing as he rested his head on the pillow and tugged the covers up to his shoulders.

Blaine watched him lay down with wide eyes, before easing himself back down onto the mattress, his movements slow and controlled in a way Kurt knew meant he was just as nervous about this as he was.

They both lay on their backs for several long seconds, staring up at the dark ceiling and not daring to move an inch. Kurt’s heartbeat sounded loud in the silence and he struggled to control his erratic breathing to make sure it wasn’t too loud. He felt like even the room itself was holding its breath, the air still and silent. An involuntary shiver ran through him from the chill in the bed which had not yet been warmed by his body. It was then that he realised he was being ridiculous. This was Blaine he was lying next to; Blaine, his boyfriend and friend he felt a closer connection to than anyone else he knew; he shouldn’t be so afraid of sharing a bed with him. 

Inhaling deeply, Kurt rolled over on to his side so he was facing Blaine. Less than a heartbeat later, Blaine did the same. Kurt smiled as he met Blaine’s eyes, which somehow still managed to shine in the dark.

“Hi,” he whispered.

Blaine shifted closer until their faces were only inches apart and Kurt could feel the heat from his body under the covers. “Hi,” he breathed.

Kurt lifted a hand out from under the duvet and pushed a wayward curl back off Blaine’s forehead. As he lowered his hand he let it linger by Blaine’s cheek, his fingertips ever so lightly skimming the soft skin of his cheekbone. With Blaine still staring up at him, he caressed his face, the skin feeling warm beneath his cool fingers. He lowered his hand until he was cupping Blaine’s face, feeling the slight prickle of stubble on Blaine’s jaw. His heart warmed when Blaine leant into the touch, his gaze still not leaving Kurt’s face.

A simple touch like this was nothing they hadn’t done dozens of times before, but for some reason it felt different, more intimate than anything else they had experienced between them so far. Maybe it was being in bed together and the advancement of their relationship that it symbolised, maybe it was the closeness of their bodies and intimacy of shared body heat beneath the blankets, or the illusion of separation from the rest of the world the darkness and shelter of the duvet and pillows provided them. Kurt didn’t know what it was exactly, but the look in Blaine’s eyes and the feel of his skin beneath his hand took his breath away and made something blossom inside him, something sweet and exhilarating and more real and raw than anything he had ever experienced in his life before. A declaration rose in his throat, getting caught somewhere behind his lips, tangled in a memory of a phone conversation and a painful reality. He exhaled shakily and with difficulty, his breath catching on the words he wished so desperately to say. His hand slid slowly down off Blaine’s cheek, smoothing down his neck before he let it fall onto the small strip of mattress between them. Blaine’s pupils were blown dark and his lips were parted as if the same words were hanging on his tongue. His breath stuttered against Kurt’s face.

“Y- You had something you wished to discuss with me?” Blaine prompted.

“Yeah,” Kurt said breathlessly. His thoughts moved slowly, like honey, and he struggled to remember why he had crept through to Blaine’s room in the middle of the night. Blaine’s closeness, the tremble in his voice, and the words slipping back down Kurt’s throat to rest by his heart clouded his mind and made it difficult to remember what he’d been so eager to tell him. “Yeah, I do.” He shifted a little on the bed to try and help compose himself. “It’s about Kayleigh’s phone call. She said it’s possible for her to send you back home.”

Blaine was silent for a moment, something shifting behind his eyes, and then he cleared his throat quietly. 

"That’s good to know,” he said simply. 

Kurt searched his face, looking for any signs that he was holding something back, that maybe he’d changed his mind.

“You still want to stay? I’ll understand if this changes things.”

“Kurt.” Blaine reached for his hand beneath the covers and entwined their fingers together. “I still want to stay,” he said softly. “But – you were right: it is comforting to know I am able to return if – I don’t know what’s going to happen in the future and some day I may wish to go home.” He looked a little worried as he finished speaking, as though he thought Kurt might be upset by this, even though it had been at Kurt’s insistence that they continued to find out if a return was possible after Blaine had made the decision to stay.

Kurt nodded his understanding. “I know. I’m not expecting you to promise to stay here forever and the last thing I would ever do is try and force you to stay. If you’re ever unhappy here and want to go home just say and we’ll go see Kayleigh, ok?” He offered Blaine a smile and squeezed his hand encouragingly when he got one in return. “You don’t have to be worried about what my reaction will be if you want to go; this isn’t about me.”

Blaine frowned at this. “Kurt, of course it is!” he argued, clutching tighter at his hand and giving it a small tug as if to jerk him to his senses. “If we- If we stay together then any decision I make about staying here will affect you. You can’t expect me to not take you and your feelings into account.”

“I don’t want you to be unhappy for the sake of pleasing me. If you’re unhappy then I’m unhappy.”

“And that works both ways,” Blaine said firmly. “I won’t be comfortable returning to my own time if you’re miserable.” They stared at each other for a moment, still clutching at each other’s hands, and then Blaine spoke again, this time in a much softer voice. 

“But that doesn’t matter right now. I’m staying here and we’re both happy.”

The way Blaine looked at Kurt made him feel like he was waiting for an answer to a question.

“We’re both happy,” Kurt agreed. The questioning look disappeared from Blaine’s eyes and was replaced with a warm smile. 

Kurt used his free hand to shove his pillow into a more comfortable position before levelling Blaine with a serious, slightly apologetic look.

“We have to tell Rachel the truth,” he told him. “And soon. She’s asking more and more questions and we have to lie to her on an almost daily basis – we can’t go on like this. I’m sure she’s getting suspicious, and with you staying here we have to tell her at some point. It’s better we do it sooner rather than later.”

Blaine was already nodding before Kurt finished talking. “I know. I’ve been thinking about this, too. I’ll tell her right away. I shouldn’t have asked you to lie to your best friend for this long.”

“Oh, no, it’s not that!” Kurt assured him, sliding even closer to him so their legs were pressed together and he was able to let go of Blaine’s hand and squeeze his shoulder comfortingly instead. “I can’t say I was entirely comfortable with lying to her, but it was for a very good reason: you were scared of how people would react, and I felt the same way. Plus, it was your secret to tell, not mine, and I could never force you to share it.”

“We’ll tell her as soon as we get the chance – tomorrow, if we can,” Blaine promised.

Kurt eyed him worriedly. “Only if you’re happy to do so…” he said uncertainly.

Blaine reached up to cover Kurt’s hand on his shoulder with his own. “I am. It’s time she knew everything.”

Kurt lapsed into thoughtful silence as Blaine rubbed his thumb over his knuckles in a comforting, repetitive motion. 

“What will we tell her?” Kurt wondered, voicing the question he’d been stewing over for the last few hours.

“We tell her absolutely everything,” Blaine replied without pausing to think about it. Maybe he’d been pondering this for as long as Kurt had. “I’ll explain it all, from the day I travelled to Kayleigh discovering it’s possible for me to go back. I think it’s the best way of helping her to understand why we kept it a secret from her for so long.” He bit his lip, suddenly looking worried. “I only hope she believes me.”

“Of course she will!” Kurt assured him hastily, giving his shoulder another squeeze. “Of course she’ll believe you. Why would she think you were lying?”

Still worrying his bottom lip with his teeth, Blaine shrugged, his hand slipping away from Kurt’s. “It’s quite a fanciful story.”

“But it’s the truth,” Kurt said, looking Blaine square in the eye as he tried to reassure him. “And she’ll see you’re telling the truth and believe you – just like I did.”

Blaine nodded, still not looking entirely convinced.

“It’ll be ok, Blaine,” Kurt said quietly. He lifted his hand to Blaine’s hair, slowly smoothing the curls back from his forehead. He smiled softly when Blaine closed his eyes at his touch. 

“Kurt?” Blaine murmured after a minute or so of peaceful silence; of Kurt rhythmically stroking Blaine’s hair, enjoying the feel of the soft curls, normally plastered down with gel, slipping between his fingers.

Kurt hummed to show he was listening.

“Will you- Will you stay here tonight?”

Kurt’s hand stilled against Blaine’s hair, his heart skipping. Blaine’s eyes opened – they were full of hesitancy and hope. A light blush was just discernible on his cheeks.

The prospect of sharing a bed with Blaine both thrilled and terrified Kurt. It wasn’t like he’d never spent the night with another man before, and all they would be doing was sleeping, but he felt just as shy and nervous about this as he had the first night he’d spent with Liam. It was probably because of how strong his feelings for Blaine were, how deeply he was cared for him. He’d never felt this way about someone before and he wanted it all – everything – with him so badly that it turned him bashful and made him blush whenever they reached another milestone in their relationship.

But, he hadn’t realised how badly he’d wanted this until now. 

“Yes,” Kurt breathed, closing his eyes and moving to brush his lips over Blaine’s. “Yes, I’ll stay.”

Blaine’s arm wound around his waist, pulling him closer as he pressed their lips together again. Kurt cradled Blaine’s head and tangled his fingers in his thick curls. It was hot under the covers, but a shiver still ran through Kurt when Blaine’s tongue traced his bottom lip. He let his leg slip between Blaine’s and tried his best not to groan in pleasure when it brought them even closer together, their hips pressing together. He could feel the muscles of Blaine’s chest through the thin cotton of their t-shirts, feel the soft swell of his small belly. He wanted more, but was not yet so far gone that all rational thought had fled from his head, making him give in to the craving. He didn’t want to rush into things with Blaine, didn’t want all the major milestones in their relationship to blur past them. He wanted everything to be special and to happen at the right time. He wanted Blaine’s firsts to be more special than his were. Blaine deserved that. 

He gradually slowed their kisses until they became languid. Blaine’s hold on his back loosened and Kurt slid his hand from Blaine’s hair down to his side, where he rubbed at his waist, his fingertips brushing over the bottom of his ribcage. The heat that had burned between them moments ago was now a pleasant warmth.

Blaine pressed one last kiss to Kurt’s lips before turning his head away and tucking it into the crook of Kurt’s neck. He nuzzled his nose against Kurt’s skin before placing a soft kiss there.

“Goodnight, Kurt,” he murmured.

Kurt smiled sleepily. “Goodnight, Blaine.”

~ * ~

Finding the right time to tell Rachel his story was harder than Blaine had thought it would be. He’d never taken much notice to how much time she spent away from home, always taking the many hours he and Kurt were alone in the apartment for granted, but now that he was waiting for her to be home for at least a few waking hours, he found himself feeling frustrated when he found out she wouldn’t be home until late and cursing under his breath when he got up in the morning to discover she’d left already. Rachel Berry was proving to be as hard to catch and keep in one place as a frog.

Something that added to the difficulty of this was his new job, but this was one added obstacle he was glad existed. He loved his job; it was everything he’d hoped it would be. All the kids and teenagers he taught were fantastic, his new boss had a friendly and relaxed attitude, and he was given a fair amount of freedom in how he conducted his lessons, allowing him to make them as enjoyable as possible for both him and his pupils. He looked forward to going to work and would spend a few hours in the mornings of work days planning his lessons by searching for new songs for his students to play or messing around on the piano inventing fun arrangements of various pieces. 

When he wasn’t at work or planning his lessons he spent the time he was alone in the apartment during the day working towards achieving his high school diploma. His online course had begun and while it was fairly flexible on how much work had to be completed each week, he was determined to complete it in the shortest time possible and put in a good number of hours of hard work each day. It helped that he’d already graduated high school and had done several years of a law degree, but a lot of his knowledge was extremely out of date and most of the syllabus was new to him.

Kurt was delighted Blaine was enjoying his job so much. He eagerly asked how work had been every time Blaine returned home after teaching and beamed happily when Blaine excitedly described how much one child was improving or how flawlessly a student had played a particular piece. He was also proud of how hard Blaine was working on his school work and how driven he was to get into college. But most of all, he was thrilled Blaine was happy.

“That’s what’s most important to me,” he said one night as they cleared up after dinner. “That you’re happy.” He pressed a kiss to Blaine’s cheek before turning back to the dishes he was drying.

Because of their busy lives it was a full week after Kayleigh’s phone call when Blaine found the time to talk to Rachel. She was home after a show, spending a quiet evening in instead of going out with friends, Finn, or people in the theatre world as she so often did. 

“An evening at home like this is good for my voice,” she explained as she plopped down on the couch in sweat pants and an old sweater. “It’s essential I set time aside to rest it.”

Blaine caught Kurt’s eye and gave him a meaningful look. Kurt’s gaze flicked briefly to where Rachel was tucked up on the couch, still prattling away about the importance of having an evening off, and nodded.

Taking a deep breath, Blaine wiped his sweaty hands on his pants. He told himself yet again that it would be fine, that this would go as smoothly as telling Kurt, and looked across at Rachel.

“Rachel…”

The seriousness of his tone made her stop talking and look at him curiously.

“What’s up?” she asked somewhat cautiously, as if already anticipating bad or shocking news.

“Um…” Blaine shot Kurt a helpless glance. While he’d acted confident a week ago discussing what to say with Kurt, he’d really just been putting on a brave face to mask the worry gnawing away at his insides. It had seemed so straightforward back then – he would simply tell Rachel everything that had happened to lead him to where he was today – but now the moment was finally here the words dried up in his mouth and fear smothered every other thought in his head, leaving him speechless and with a blank mind.

Kurt stepped in to help him. “We have something to tell you, something we’ve had to keep from you until now.”

Rachel had been slumped in her seat, but at Kurt’s words she shot up straight and stared at the pair of them. “You’ve been keeping secrets from me?” she said incredulously. 

“Secret, Rach,” Kurt corrected. “There’s only the one.”

“Well what is it?” she demanded. “I can’t believe you’ve been keeping secrets from me, Kurt!”

Kurt opened his mouth to reply, but Blaine spoke up before he could say anything. It was his secret, he who told Kurt not to share it with anyone, so he should be the one telling Rachel and taking the brunt of her reaction, not Kurt.

“I’m not from Connecticut,” he said, watching Rachel closely for her reaction. The confusion mounted behind her eyes. “I’m actually from New York. I used to go to Columbia University here and lived just outside the city.”

“Used to-” Rachel repeated slowly. She sounded completely baffled. “What- Why did you lie about where you’re from?”

Blaine closed his eyes for a moment and gathered himself together, doing his utmost best to remain calm. He opened his eyes. “I lied because it’s not where I’m from that’s the problem, it’s when.”

Rachel stared at him – he could almost see her mind working behind her eyes, see her trying to make sense of what he’d just said.

“I’m not from this time, Rachel. I’m from the year 1923. I travelled to this time several months ago.”

Rachel’s lips parted and a number of emotions chased each other across her face: shock, disbelief, confusion, and shock once again. Blaine gave her a moment, resisting the rising urge to start babbling in order to let his words sink in. Kurt sat silent and tense, his breath held as he awaited Rachel’s response. His hand slid into Blaine’s.

“Is it April?” Rachel asked weakly.

Puzzled, Blaine exchanged a glance with Kurt; he looked just as confused and worried as Blaine felt.

“W- What?” Blaine stammered.

Rachel didn’t appear to hear him. “This has to be an April Fool’s joke; it has to be.”

Blaine gripped Kurt’s hand tighter, his breath whistling harshly out his of his lungs. This was what he had feared; this was what they’d both feared: Rachel refusing to believe him and thinking he was either crazy or joking.

“This isn’t a joke, Rachel,” Blaine said as gently as he could, his tone apologetic. “It’s the truth. I’m from the year nineteen-”

“Liar!” Rachel interrupted in a shriek.

Blaine jerked back as though he’d been slapped. 

“You’re a liar! You’re a liar and you’re using Kurt! You may have sucked him in with your bowties and your charming manner and your stupid pocket watch, but you’re not fooling me! Kurt might have been gullible enough to believe your crazy story, but I’m not. I knew there was something strange about you and now I know.” She inhaled deeply, drawing herself up taller. “Now I know,” she repeated, her voice trembling with anger. “You’re a fake. You’re a liar and a user and-”

“That’s enough!”

Kurt had leapt to his feet, ripping his hand out of Blaine’s. He glared at Rachel, his cheeks flushed, his mouth set in a thin, hard line, and his chest heaving. Blaine gazed dazedly up at hm. He felt oddly detached from the situation, as if he were watching it play out in a movie rather than actually experiencing it. He was so stunned by Rachel’s outburst that he was now in a state of disbelief. His fears were being realised and he hadn’t really been prepared for it; he had no idea what to do or say to defend himself or to try and make Rachel see sense. 

Luckily, Kurt wasn’t in a similar state of shock.

“Don’t you dare call him that! I can’t believe you would say such a thing to him.”

Rachel jumped to her feet, too. “How can you believe his crazy, bullshit story? What happened to your intelligence, Kurt?”

Kurt’s eyes widened. “What happened to yours? What happened to your trust and loyalty? Why isn’t that I believe Blaine enough for you to know he’s telling the truth?”

“Because he’s tricked you, Kurt!” Rachel shot back, her voice rising and her hands balling into fists by her side. “You’re too trusting and gullible when it comes to a pretty face – look at Liam! Look how stupid you were to believe him!”

She had gone too far.

Kurt’s face, which had been twisted with anger – eyes narrowed, mouth tight – smoothed out into a steely calmness, an expression which only just contained all his anger and disappointment behind closed doors. His eyes held a blazing sort of incredulity and he seemed to exude a soundless anger that had both Rachel and Blaine recoiling. But Blaine could see by the slight slump to Kurt’s shoulders and the tiny tremble of his hand that he’d been hurt by Rachel’s words.

Rachel knew she’d made a big mistake and hastily tried to take her words back. “I didn’t mean that, I-”

“Liam has nothing to do with Blaine,” Kurt said in a deceptively calm voice, cutting Rachel off. “Blaine is nothing like him.”

Kurt continued to defend Blaine, continued to point out how wrong Rachel was and all the ways he differed from, and was better than, Liam. Blaine sat in silence as he did so. He stared down at the floor feeling more useless and worthless and hurt than he could remember feeling in years. To his humiliation, tears blurred his vision as he listened numbly to Kurt, now trying to make Rachel see sense. He knew he should speak up and say something to prove he wasn’t a liar, wasn’t what she was accusing him of being, but all he could do was stare at the floor in silence. He couldn’t open his mouth or move for the fear he’d break down and start sobbing; as it was, he could barely control the wobbling of his chin or the build-up of tears in his eyes. 

As Kurt continued to explain how he’d met Blaine and all the research they’d done together to a now silent Rachel, a tear slipped down Blaine’s cheek. The floor dissolved into an indistinguishable wavering blur and Kurt’s voice faded to white noise in the background. Lost in his pain, he missed his boyfriend explaining everything he should have been saying and didn’t hear anything Rachel said in response. Kurt was being a fantastic, supportive boyfriend and Blaine couldn’t even bring himself to focus on him and what he was saying or help him make Rachel believe his story. His pain and humility deepened. 

The next thing he was really aware of beyond the burn of worthlessness and the sharp stabbing of liar and fake in his chest was a pair of familiar, warm hands resting on his knees and Kurt’s voice repeating his name.

“Blaine?”

Swallowing hard, Blaine lifted his head to meet Kurt’s eyes. Upon seeing Blaine’s face, Kurt’s concerned expression softened.

“Oh, Blaine,” he breathed. He cupped Blaine’s face with his hand, wiping away the tear clinging to his cheek with his thumb. Blaine had to bite his lip to hold back a sob. “I had to tell Rachel to look you up online to prove where you are from,” Kurt whispered apologetically. “I had no other choice; she was refusing to believe me without solid evidence.” He searched Blaine’s face anxiously. “I’m sorry.”

Blaine knew she could find anything online – his future career, whether he married or not, the date of his death – information neither he nor Kurt wanted to know, but if that was the only way to convince her he was telling the truth then so be it. He would just have to request she kept any information she learnt about his future to herself and hope she did so.

Blaine leant into Kurt’s touch, still fighting tears. “It’s fine,” he assured him, his voice catching on the last word and a small sob escaping.

Kurt’s face fell even further, becoming so unbearably sad it made the need to bury his face in his hands and cry fill Blaine more strongly than Rachel’s cruel words had done. 

Another tear slipped down his cheek, Kurt caught it with his thumb. 

“I’m so sorry,” Kurt whispered, rocking forward until his forehead rested against Blaine’s. Blaine’s eyes slid shut and he moved his left hand from where it had been gripping the edge of the couch to rest atop Kurt’s hand on his knee. “I am so, so sorry. I never thought she’d react like this – never.”

Blaine squeezed his hand, trying to convey how he didn’t blame Kurt in the slightest through his touch. He didn’t even think Rachel was in the wrong, really. While he hated being doubted and called a liar, he understood Rachel’s reluctance to believe his story; it was so absurd and fanciful he could scarcely believe it himself some days. It was completely understandable that she wanted to see actual evidence before she accepted his story. He knew he was extremely lucky Kurt had believed him with no questions asked. He was lucky he had met Kurt.

Kurt nuzzled his nose against Blaine’s and Blaine felt his tears and the choking lump in his throat receding. His hysterical emotions calmed and the wild thumping of his heart slowed. It was incredible that the same person who could make his heart race, his nerves tingle, and the blood rush through his veins could soothe him and settle his rampant hurricane of emotions. He never realised it was possible for someone to have such an effect on him.

The sound of a throat being cleared made them move back from each other, Blaine opening his eyes reluctantly to see a sheepish Rachel watching them. She twisted her hands together as Blaine and Kurt stared at her expectantly.

“I- I looked online,” she said, her voice shaky and uneven. A light pink flush appeared on her cheeks. “I found birth records and a newspaper article about a polo team and-” She broke off mid-sentence when Blaine gave a sudden twitch and Kurt shifted uncomfortably on the floor in front of him. She swallowed. “I’m- I’m sorry. I should never have doubted you or yelled at you or- or accused you of being a liar. But you have to know how crazy and far-fetched what you told me sounds.”

She said these last words more strongly and almost pleadingly. Her eyes were glossy with tears as she looked at Blaine, her hands trembling slightly as she twisted them together again and again.

“I’m so sorry, Blaine,” she whispered. She sniffed and lifted her chin a little, her voice losing its pleading undercurrent. “I’ll understand if you never forgive me.” 

She stood and gazed at him a moment longer, before nodding her head and turning to walk away.

“Don’t worry,” she added without looking round, “I won’t tell anyone. And I’ll keep what I saw on the internet to myself as well.”

She was almost at the hallway leading through to the bedrooms when Blaine stood up.

“Rachel – wait.”

Rachel stopped immediately, turning back to face Blaine with barely contained hope in her eyes. 

“It’s ok.” Blaine told her. Out the corner of his eye he could see Kurt looking up at him from where he was still kneeling on the floor. “You’re right, it is unbelievable what happened to me, and I was wrong to expect everyone to believe me when the only evidence I have is my word. I can’t hold that against you.”

“I shouldn’t have called you those things,” she said quietly.

Blaine said nothing to this. He couldn’t really agree with her when he had been what she’d accused him of being – he had been a liar and a fake when he’d pretended to be a twenty-first century man from Connecticut.

Rachel smiled at him, just a small lift of the corners of her mouth. “Thank you for forgiving me.” She gestured behind her. “I promised Santana I’d Skype her tonight.”

Blaine nodded, though he didn’t have a clue what she was talking about, and Rachel turned and headed for her room. 

There was a moment of silence and then Blaine looked back down at Kurt. They exchanged a long look, passing understanding for how the other felt and what they were thinking through their gazes. Blaine eventually sank down onto the floor next to Kurt. Kurt held out his hand and Blaine took it, slotting his fingers between Kurt’s and responding to his smile with one of his own. The day may not have gone as planned, but Rachel knew. She now believed Blaine and they no longer had to lie and pretend in their own home, something Blaine had been longing for since understanding he was gay.


	12. Chapter 12

Another month passed by, the weather getting steadily colder as autumn drew to an end and winter began. Kurt struggled to hold back an amused smirk whenever Blaine returned from work wearing the fedora hat he’d worn in his early days of arriving, but Blaine always got the last laugh, watching on smugly when Kurt grumbled under his breath while trying to fix hair ruined by wind and rain. The slightly stiff atmosphere left after Rachel’s accusation towards Blaine had long since vanished and the three of them were living comfortably together, more so than they had been before Rachel had learned the truth. Now that Rachel knew what had been off about Blaine she was much more relaxed around him and Blaine now considered her a friend and not just an acquaintance.

A few days after Rachel had learned the truth, Kurt had talked to Blaine about him meeting his father and step-mother. The thought of meeting Kurt’s family made Blaine almost sick with nerves, but he had some breathing time before the meeting: with Kurt’s family still living in Ohio and everyone busy with work, Blaine wouldn’t meet them until Christmastime when they were coming out to New York to visit.

Blaine’s work at the music store was still going well and he’d yet to experience a day there that he didn’t enjoy. His pupils were continuing to improve and his boss had told him how much praise he was receiving from the parents of the younger students.

When he’d received his first paycheck he’d been thrilled. Until then, he’d almost forgotten he was getting paid for giving those lessons; he enjoyed his job so much it didn’t feel like work. The day he was paid he took Kurt out for dinner, taking great pleasure in paying for the meal with his own money.

“That’s paying you back a little bit for everything you’ve done for me,” he’d told Kurt as they’d left the restaurant together, hand-in-hand and with bellies full of Italian food, the taste of their shared tiramisu dessert lingering on their tongues.

They’d stopped at a road, waiting for a few cars to pass before they could cross, and Kurt had turned to Blaine with a somewhat exasperated smile. 

“Blaine, that was you taking me out on a date.”

Reaching up, he’d adjusted Blaine’s bowtie with a small tug on its corner, and then he’d led Blaine across the road. 

It was a night a little over a week later when Rachel realised something that made her gasp out loud in the middle of the movie they were watching.

Blaine turned to look at her with concern, while Kurt shot her a scowl.

“You ruined one of the best lines in the-”

“I just realised something,” Rachel interrupted, plainly not listening to a word Kurt was saying.

Gesticulating towards the TV, Kurt continued to glare at Rachel, but when she still ignored him, he sighed heavily and paused the movie.

“You’ve never been to one of my shows,” Rachel said, indicating Blaine with a small wave of her hand. “You’ve never seen me perform.”

“I-” Blaine glanced at Kurt, feeling a little confused as to why this was such a big problem. Kurt rolled his eyes at him.

“I can’t believe I never thought of this before,” Rachel continued, looking excited. “I’ll get tickets so you and Kurt can come to a show this week.” She nodded and then turned back to the TV expectantly.

Kurt resumed the movie as Blaine turned to him with a bewildered look. Kurt shrugged and Blaine was left feeling as though he’d just been talked into something he didn’t want, though he didn’t at all mind going to see Rachel’s show, in fact, he was curious about it.

Rachel arrived home from work the next day with tickets for Kurt and Blaine to see the show the following evening. Blaine had never seen someone so eager and excited about another person seeing them perform. He had heard her sing enough to know she had an incredible voice and he hoped her acting was as good; he didn’t want to have to lie about how good he thought her performance was; he’d had enough of lying.

Blaine was still stewing over that thought as he got ready to leave the following evening. He and Kurt had decided to make a date out of it and were going to dinner before the show. He had carefully selected his outfit earlier and now, as he stood in front of the full length mirror on the back of the closet door, he admired his choice with satisfaction. The dark grey dress pants looked good with his blue shirt which, after a bit of deliberation, he’d rolled the sleeves of, and his grey bowtie finished the look off perfectly. He still found it a little strange not wearing a jacket and waistcoat all the time, but he had to admit he preferred the modern day fashions. There was a lot more choice and freedom and like Kurt had said all those months ago, it was a lot more comfortable.

He gave his bowtie one last tweak before going into the living area to wait for Kurt. He paced the floor as he waited, too pent up with a buzzing excitement to sit down. 

Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait long as Kurt emerged from his room after only a few minutes of pacing, dressed impeccably in fitted black pants, a grey shirt that brought out his eyes, and a thin black tie.

His eyes darkened slightly when he spotted Blaine standing by the couch. 

“You look beautiful,” he said breathlessly. 

Blaine’s heart soared and pleasant warmth flooded his stomach. Before he’d met Kurt no one had ever called him beautiful. To him, beautiful was one of the greatest compliments to give or receive. It didn’t mean pure good looks, it was confidence, happiness, and a bit of love as well; it was personality and relationship as well as appearance. Beauty wasn’t superficial.

He fought the urge to duck his head as a light blush warmed his cheeks and a bashful smile crossed his face. “So do you,” he told Kurt sincerely.

Kurt smiled. “Ready to go?”

They fetched their coats and Kurt wound a scarf around his neck – Kurt had a fondness for scarves, Blaine had noticed. They held hands as they headed downstairs in the elevator and hailed a cab to take them towards the heart of the city.

Kurt had chosen the restaurant and because of this he insisted he be the one to pay for their meal. As he waved away Blaine’s fifth attempt to pay he requested Blaine stop spending all of his wages on him. There would be things he’d want to buy for himself and he should be saving for college as well; he shouldn’t be spending all of his money on dates and flowers. Blaine had grumbled a bit in protest to this, but had eventually conceded defeat, allowing Kurt to pay, and then following him out of the restaurant to the theatre with good grace.

Rachel’s show was performed in one of the smaller Broadway theatres, but nonetheless there was a large crowd milling about the foyer and spilling into the theatre proper to take their seats. Rachel had managed to snag them excellent seats right in the centre where they would have a good view of the stage. Wanting to see Rachel’s name and profile in the Playbill, Blaine flicked eagerly through the little programme leaflet once they’d sat down while Kurt, who had seen it all many times before, played around on his phone.

When the lights dimmed and the voices all around them quietened, Blaine felt a rush of excitement. He’d always loved the atmosphere of live performances, that sense of unity. His stomach gave an excited jolt and an uncontrollable smile spread across his face when Rachel first stepped onto the stage – that was his friend up there.

He was left completely flabbergasted by the performance of not only Rachel, but the entire cast. Rachel was still a stand-out, despite her not playing a leading role. He already knew she was an amazing singer, but her acting and dancing was above par as well. He felt guilty for all the times he’d ever thought she might be someone who had an over-inflated opinion of their abilities and was glad he’d been proved wrong.

Rachel had told them to go backstage after the show, so as soon as curtain call was over, the lights were back up, and the rest of the audience were shuffling towards the doors, Kurt and Blaine went to Rachel’s dressing room, finding her sitting looking at her phone and drinking from a bottle of water. She sat the phone aside when they entered the small room.

“Hey, guys!” she greeted them brightly. “Did you enjoy the show?” She looked between them eagerly, her gaze lingering on Blaine a little longer.

“I loved it,” Blaine enthused. “You were incredible – a stand-out performance.”

Rachel beamed at him. 

“Thank you for the tickets; it was a wonderful show,” Blaine said.

Rachel waved away his thanks. “I like to give all my friends tickets. They hear me talk about the show often enough, they deserve to come see it.” She glanced at her phone when it buzzed on the table behind her. “Some of my cast mates have invited me out for drinks tonight and I was wondering if you two wanted to come along?” She nodded her head at Kurt. “Kurt knows them and they’re all dying to meet his new man.”

Blaine looked to Kurt as Rachel watched on expectantly. He didn’t really mind whether they went or not – if Kurt wanted to go then he’d be happy to go along as well. He’d never been out anywhere for drinks in his life; with alcohol being illegal in his own time it was never something that was an option for him. This meant that not only did he have no idea what a bar was like, he had no experience whatsoever with alcohol. He knew from the stories of the bathtub brandy men who loitered the alleys of the city that alcohol didn’t always bring out the best in people, but he hoped that if he didn’t have more than a couple of drinks he wouldn’t have that problem.

Kurt held his gaze for a moment, before shrugging and turning back to Rachel. “Sure, we’ll come.”

Rachel’s smile widened even further. “Yay! Let me just get changed and then we can go.”

Kurt moved towards the door, Blaine following. “We’ll wait outside.”

Once in the corridor outside, Kurt placed a hand on Blaine’s arm.

“You’re ok with going out with Rachel’s friends, aren’t you? They’re nice enough – a little loud and excitable, but they’re alright.”

Blaine nodded. “It’s fine.” He paused. “I’ve never been to a bar or anything before, though.”

Kurt blinked at him. “You’ve never-?” Then understanding hit. “Oh, right. That doesn’t matter. You don’t have to drink anything alcoholic if you don’t want to.”

Blaine shrugged. “We’ll see. It’s part of your culture, right? I should probably try it if I want to integrate myself in these times.”

Kurt frowned. “I don’t think-”

Taking Kurt’s hand, Blaine smiled at him. “I’m only joking.” He swung their joined hands gently between them. “Do you not have any friends you go for drinks with?” he asked, suddenly thoughtful. “You’ve never gone out with anyone but me since I moved in with you.”

“I haven’t been out with anyone but you, Rachel, and people Rachel has asked I go out with since Liam left,” Kurt admitted in a small voice. “But maybe I should start meeting up with my college friends again.”

Blaine gave him an encouraging smile. “I think you should.”

Rachel joined them shortly afterwards and they set off. The bar Rachel and her friends had chosen was not too far from the theatre and was set in a prominent location, so they had to wiggle through a crowd of people thronging around the doors when they arrived. Once they’d managed to edge their way inside, Blaine looked around curiously.

It was a large, trendy place, spread over two floors, but still packed with people, most of them young and immaculately dressed. The bar was long and tended by several staff members who were taking orders and making up drinks with a speed that amazed him. The lighting was fairly dim, making shadows gather in the corners of the room, and the music was loud, the bass thumping above the buzz of dozens of conversations. Obscure artwork dominated the walls, interspaced with oddly-shaped lights which lit up the tables below them. Blaine immediately felt mildly claustrophobic.

Rachel was standing up on her toes, craning her neck to see over the heads of the people standing around in groups talking and drinking. She glanced briefly over her shoulder. 

“I’ll grab us a table,” she shouted over the music, before disappearing into the crowd.

Feeling sceptical, Blaine followed after her, Kurt at his side. He didn’t think it was possible there was a free table somewhere, not when this many people were standing or leaning against the bar or walls. He was therefore stunned when he heard Rachel’s voice calling his and Kurt’s name and he turned to see Rachel seated at a free table, waving at them.

Kurt was equally as surprised.

“How did you find this?” he asked as he slid into the booth opposite her, Blaine taking the spot next to him.

Rachel smiled mysteriously. “I have my ways.”

Kurt frowned slightly and opened his mouth to question her further, but was interrupted by the arrival of two young women, both blonde, whom Blaine recognised from the show – Rachel’s friends.

“Hey, Kurt. Long time, no see!” the taller of the two greeted, sitting down next to Rachel, who slid further along the booth to make room for the other girl as well. She turned her wide smile to Blaine. “And this must be the boyfriend we’ve heard so much about!”

Blaine cleared his throat nervously, the small sound lost beneath the blaring music. “Blaine Anderson,” he said, holding his hand out across the table first to the tall woman who’d spoken, and then to her friend, shaking their hands in greeting. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”

The two women exchanged the briefest of looks.

“You weren’t exaggerating, were you, Rachel?” the shorter woman said. She smiled at Blaine. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Ellie.”

“Sarah,” the taller woman said. She glanced eagerly between Kurt and Blaine, like a bird eyeing up two juicy worms that had suddenly popped out of the ground. “I’m going to get us all some drinks and when I get back I want to hear all about how you two met.” Standing up and squeezing past Ellie, she looked around the table. “What’s everyone having – the usual?” 

Three nods followed her question and Blaine began to silently panic, having no idea what to have.

Sarah’s gaze turned on him. “Blaine?”

Trying not to let his panic show on his face, Blaine shot Kurt a pleading look, thinking he could help him out, but Kurt wasn’t looking at him, he was leaning across the table saying something to Rachel.

Forcing a smile on his face, Blaine looked back up at Sarah. “I- I’ll just have the same as Kurt,” he stammered, feeling his cheeks heat up. He thanked the dim lighting for concealing his blush as Sarah headed for the bar.

Whilst she was gone they chatted about the show and Blaine started to relax, the pounding music sounding a little less extreme, no longer pulsing inside his head. He still wasn’t too fond of having to shout to make himself heard above the noise in the bar, but the more used to it he became, the less it bothered him. 

Rachel was lamenting on the difficulty of one of the songs she sang in the show when Sarah returned, somehow managing to carry all five glasses.

“I’ve had a lot of practice,” she explained in response to Blaine’s impressed look. She sat down next to Ellie. “What’d I miss?”

As Rachel gave her a run-down of the conversation they’d had in her absence, Blaine eyed the drink he’d been given, the liquid looking unnaturally bright under the bar’s lighting.

Kurt leant close to him. “It’s nice, I promise.”

Blaine scrutinised the drink for another moment before lifting the glass and taking a tentative sip. Fruity sweetness exploded on his tongue alongside a strange, almost burning, tang. He had never tasted anything quite like it before. He raised his eyes from his glass to find Kurt watching him. 

“Do you like it?”

Blaine gave a small shrug. “It’s quite nice.”

Across the table from them, Sarah set her glass down and leant her elbows on the table, looking over at Kurt and Blaine.

“So, how did you two meet?” she asked keenly.

Kurt and Blaine exchanged a look.

“We bumped into each other at a coffee shop,” Kurt said, using the partial truth they’d told Rachel months ago. “After that first meeting I saw him at the same coffee shop every morning. We got to know each other, then I asked him out to dinner.”

Blaine smiled fondly at Kurt as the girls cooed at them. Remembering all those meetings in the coffee shop, when seeing Kurt each morning helped relieve his fear and gave him a reason to leave his hotel room, warmed his heart. Those meetings were the bright spot in his bleak outlook and he would always hold the memories of them dearly.

Ellie was watching him curiously. “Tell us about yourself, Blaine. Are you a student or do you work in the city?”

Blaine’s heart plummeted, the happy warmth bubbling inside of him fizzling out. He should have seen this coming – of course Rachel’s friends would want to hear more about him – his job, if and where he was studying… He was back to telling lies once again.

Tension returned to his muscles and the smile on his face became fixed. The music was painfully loud once again, the bass booming and a female voice shrilling the same words over and over again. Someone jostled their table as they squeezed through the crowds. Claustrophobia crept in on him again.

Kurt and Rachel sipped at their drinks as Blaine told all the same lines he’d given to Rachel and Kurt before he’d told them the truth. Ellie and Sarah fired question after question at him and Blaine’s palms began to sweat. He hated this. He hated that he had to tell all these lies and make a fake identity for himself in a time when he was supposed to be able to be himself. He hadn’t escaped the life of masks and lies at all.

The music was too loud and unfamiliar, his drink was an odd, almost fluorescent colour, the bar was too crowded, dozens of bodies were packed into far too small a space, and he was lying again, desperately trying to hide that he was a twenties man in the twenty-first century. He felt so overwhelmed.

With his hands now shaking, Blaine tried to focus on the conversation at the table, but they had moved onto a subject completely unfamiliar to him, full of unrecognisable names and foreign places. His feelings of distress reached the point of overflow.

He jumped to his feet. The conversation at the table cut off and they all looked up at him, Kurt with concern beginning to unfold behind his eyes.

“I need some air,” he told them.

Rachel, Sarah, and Ellie watched on as he stepped out of the booth.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

Blaine turned back to see Kurt with his hand resting on the table, poised to get up. The concern in his eyes was more pronounced.

Shaking his head, Blaine tried to look reassuring. “No, it’s ok. It’s just a bit warm in here, that’s all. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

He could feel Kurt’s worried gaze on his back as he moved away from the table and wound his way through the crowd towards the doors. Once the doors were in sight his stride quickened until he was almost jogging around one final group of people, before darting through the doors and out onto the street.

The cold night air stung his flushed cheeks and his panting breath rose in a smoky cloud in front of him, but he barely noticed the chill as he leant against the wall near the door of the bar, despite leaving his coat inside. Closing his eyes, he tried to calm his racing heart and trembling hands, but the realisation causing this wasn’t something that was easy to shake off. He didn’t belong here.

It wasn’t a new fact to him, he’d known from the moment he’d realised he was in the future that he didn’t belong, but he’d never truly realised just how much of an outcast he was here. It had always been a lingering thought in his mind, but it had been small and easy to ignore, until tonight. For some reason tonight was his tipping point. Being here in a bar with some of Rachel’s friends, a pretty typical night out for a group of young people in the city, proved just how out of his depth he was here; just how alien he was. And he couldn’t see this changing. Even if he spent another thirty years in this era, making a life for himself here and learning the ways of the people, he was certain he’d always feel out of place. On occasion something would come up that would throw him, reminding him of how he wasn’t supposed to be here. There would still be that nagging thought that he didn’t belong.

Exhaling shakily, he listened to the muffled thumping of the bass from the music still playing inside the bar. It pounded along in time with the throbbing headache beginning to take up residence somewhere behind his eyes. Squeezing his eyes shut tighter, he rubbed a hand over his face. He wanted nothing more than to go home and curl up in bed with Kurt, to sleep off his headache and clear his head of the unsettling, painful thoughts currently growing there. He wanted to bury his face in the crook of Kurt’s neck and breathe in his familiar, soothing scent until morning came around and his head was on straight again.

“Blaine? Are you ok?”

A hand touched his arm and Blaine opened his eyes to find Kurt gazing at him, a worried frown creasing his forehead.

Blaine hurried to smooth out his troubled expression; he didn’t want Kurt to know what he was thinking, not until he was sure he was thinking straight and that the thought forming in his mind was definitive. 

He forced a smile. “I’m fine. I’m not really used to being somewhere as crowded and loud as this.” He nodded his head towards the door of the bar.

Kurt scrutinised him for a moment and Blaine held his breath, waiting for him to realise he wasn’t being truthful and to try and prise out what was really bothering him.

He let out a relieved sigh when Kurt smiled apologetically.

“Yeah, it’s not everyone’s scene,” he said. “Sorry for dragging you along here. We can go now if you want?”

Blaine waved away his offer. “I’ll be alright. You haven’t seen your friends or been out like this for a while. Go enjoy yourself, I’ll be back to join you in a minute.”

When Kurt made no move to go back inside, but continued to gaze at him with concern, Blaine added, “I’m fine, Kurt – really.”

“If you’re sure,” Kurt said, not looking all that convinced. He rubbed Blaine’s arm before dropping his hand. “We won’t stay that much longer. Come back in when you’re ready.” 

Leaning in, he brushed a soft kiss to Blaine’s cheek, before he disappeared back into the bar.

As soon as he was gone, Blaine closed his eyes again, letting his head fall back against the wall. He breathed deeply and slowly, trying to shake the unsettled feeling.

When he opened his eyes again it was immediately apparent just how foreign the modern world still was to him. He’d been here months now, but he was still lost. He felt just as out of place as he did the day he arrived. He was still completely ignorant of how to live properly in this time.

He blew out another smoky cloud of breath and as he watched it dissipate in the air before him another thought occurred to him. What if his unsettled feeling was because he was upsetting the natural balances of the world? He’d disrupted something big by coming here – some force or another – and he must be continuing to do so by remaining here. By the laws of the universe he didn’t belong here and he never would, no matter how long he stayed or if he managed to blend into modern society. He realised that now.

He stayed there outside the bar staring at nothing and trying not to think of the horrible realisation that was becoming stronger and clearer the more time went by. When his breathing had evened up a little and his pulse had steadied, he went back inside, knowing Kurt would be worrying about him. As he approached their table he could see Rachel laughing with Ellie and Sarah, but Kurt was fidgeting with his glass, casting a worried look around the crowds every now and then. When Blaine reached the table, he scrutinised him closely, looking concerned.

“I’m alright,” Blaine assured him before he could ask. 

Kurt didn’t look convinced, but moved over so Blaine could sit down.

Blaine tried to feign normalcy, but Kurt knew something was wrong – he kept glancing his way and the worried frown hadn’t left his face. After about five minutes of this, Kurt leant in close to Blaine.

“Do you want to go home?” he whispered in his ear.

A strange jolt passed through Blaine and his pulse accelerated to an uncomfortable pace. He swallowed thickly.

“I’m ok,” he replied, his voice trembling slightly despite his best efforts to control it. “We can stay as long as you want.”

Kurt shook his head. “We’re going home.” He stood up, taking hold of Blaine’s hand and tugging him up with him. The three girls broke off their conversation to stare at them. 

“We’re going to head home,” he told them. “Blaine’s got a bit of a headache. See you guys later.”

Rachel shifted forward in her seat, looking like she was about to say something, but Kurt had pulled Blaine out of the booth before she got the chance. Ingrained manners not allowing him to just walk away, Blaine turned back and called over his shoulder: “It was nice meeting you!”

Walking out of the bar was, once again, a relief for Blaine. The silent journey home in the cab, however, was not. Silence gave him the opportunity to wallow in his thoughts and to allow that unthinkable realisation to grow ever stronger. Kurt’s thumb was stroking over the top of his hand in what was supposed to be a comforting gesture, but to Blaine was a torturous reminder of what he had here but would never have in his own time. He knew Kurt was waiting until they got home before he asked him what was really bothering him, but he wished his boyfriend would say something – anything – just to break the silence. He would have spoken if only his throat weren’t choked up too tightly to speak.

He managed to swallow around this tightness when they arrived back at the apartment and Kurt turned to face him.

“Ok, what’s really wrong?” he asked, his voice laden with concern, so much that Blaine felt all his resolve to maintain the pretence that he only had a headache dissolve.

He rubbed at a spot above his right eyebrow where a headache now really was brewing. “I- Sometimes it just feels too wrong and I so obviously don’t belong in this time. Sometimes I feel so out of place and overwhelmed by it all.”

Kurt’s expression softened. “Blaine…” He stepped forward and wrapped Blaine in a hug, which Blaine returned gratefully, clutching at him tightly. “I forget how hard this must be for you; that it’s more than just getting the right papers and learning enough to pass as someone from this time.” He rubbed at Blaine’s back and Blaine squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his cheek against Kurt’s neck. “If you ever feel like this again, tell me and I’ll do what I can to help. We can talk or spend a day on the couch together – whatever makes you feel better.” He pulled back a little and gave Blaine a quick kiss. “I want you to be happy.”

Something inside Blaine’s chest throbbed dully at these words. He inhaled deeply and shakily, trying to ignore it. “Can you- Can we go to bed? I just want to go to bed and to- to be with you.”

Kurt nodded immediately, smiling at him gently. “Of course, sweetheart.” He took Blaine’s hand and led the way through to the hall, pausing outside the door to his bedroom and glancing at Blaine, a question in his eyes.

“Your room, please,” Blaine whispered.

Nodding again, Kurt let go of Blaine’s hand and placed his on Blaine’s shoulders. “Do you want to go get changed first?”

“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” Blaine said, before hurrying down to his room where he quickly changed into his sleep wear and brushed his teeth. When he returned to Kurt’s room, knocking on the door in case he was changing, he found Kurt rubbing a splodge of cream into his cheeks. He waved a hand at his bed.

“Take whichever side you want. I’ll join you in a second.”

Blushing, Blaine eyed the bed for a moment before picking the left-hand side as the pillow looked less rumpled which led him to guess Kurt slept on the other side. He got under the covers, shivering slightly from the cool sheets, and lay down, breathing in Kurt’s scent which seemed particularly strong in his bed. He inhaled deeply, feeling some of the tension drain out of him.

Kurt was back from the bathroom moments later, smiling at the sight of Blaine curled up in his bed. He clicked off the light, climbed in beside him, and rolled over to face him in the dark. He noticed Blaine tugging the covers further up his neck.

“Cold?” Kurt whispered, the darkness making speaking any louder seem wrong. Without waiting for an answer, he slid closer to Blaine, curling an arm around his waist and tangling their legs together. He jerked a little when Blaine’s foot brushed an exposed bit of his calf.

“Sorry,” Blaine whispered, realising his feet must be freezing. He moved his foot away where it wouldn’t touch Kurt.

Kurt just smiled and leaned closer so he could nuzzle his nose against Blaine’s. “Do you want to talk or do you want to sleep?”

“Sleep,” Blaine replied immediately. He wanted to avoid thinking if he could.

Kurt kissed him sweetly, his lips lingering against Blaine’s before he moved back. “Goodnight, Blaine.”

“Goodnight,” Blaine whispered back.

 

~ * ~

Kurt was worried.

The morning after Blaine had confessed his struggles with living in the future he had been almost too bright and cheery, making Kurt breakfast and singing softly as he tidied the apartment with a constant large smile on his face. He had brushed off all of Kurt’s attempts to talk about the night before, saying he was fine now and it was just one of those moments where he wound himself up by thinking too much. He seemed happy and relaxed and normal. But Kurt knew better.

Whenever Blaine thought Kurt was preoccupied with something the smile would disappear from his face and his brow would wrinkle into a frown. Sometimes, when Kurt would look up at him a flash of something pained and disturbed would flicker deep in Blaine’s eyes before the smile was back again. His feeling of not belonging was obviously still troubling him, and what scared Kurt the most was that he didn’t want to talk to him about it.

He didn’t want it to be like this between them. He wanted them to feel comfortable sharing anything and everything with each other, especially stuff that was bothering them. It had never been a problem with them before which could only mean that whatever Blaine was keeping to himself was something he felt would hurt Kurt.

There was only one thing Kurt could think of that fit. His heart clenched painfully at the thought.

He decided to confront Blaine about it again; to try and get him to talk about it all. He hated knowing Blaine was feeling upset and troubled more than the thought of what might be the cause of it all. He had to talk to Blaine.

The opportunity arose at dinner one night. Rachel was at work and the apartment was quiet save for the scraping of their cutlery and the sound of Blaine’s voice as he finished telling Kurt about his afternoon at work. Kurt waited until he’d finished speaking and was taking a drink before he brought the topic up.

“Blaine?” he began, sounding tentative despite his plans to be quite firm so that Blaine wouldn’t brush him off. 

Swallowing a mouthful of soda, Blaine lifted his eyebrows inquiringly.

Kurt nudged a pea with his fork, fighting the urge to look down at his plate. “I think we need to talk about the other night – the night we went to Rachel’s show,” he added for clarification.

Blaine set his glass down on the table and opened his mouth to respond with what Kurt knew was going to be a vague comment about how it was nothing to be concerned about, like the ones he’d been churning out since the morning after, but Kurt spoke up again before he got the chance.

“Don’t tell me it’s nothing. I know it has been bothering you since then. I’ve noticed you looking worried and upset when you thought I wasn’t looking.”

Blaine’s face fell and he shifted in his seat, his eyes darting briefly over to his right as though wishing he could run away from the conversation.

Kurt set his cutlery down and leaned his elbows on the table. He looked pleadingly at Blaine. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide things from me. I want us to be open and honest with each other, especially if something is troubling either of us.”

Biting his lip, Blaine nodded. “I didn’t mean-” he mumbled. He broke off with a pained look. “It’s my problem, it’s something I need to set straight in my own head, so I didn’t want to bother you with it,” he said in a small voice.

Kurt wanted to reach across the table and take his hand, but Blaine had dropped them down into his lap. He leaned a little further across the table instead.

“Blaine, honey, your problems are my problems, too. Whenever you’re unhappy about something I’m unhappy as well. How can I be happy when I know something is getting you down?” One side of his mouth lifted a little in a small, sad smile. “I would much rather you shared your problems with me so I can do everything I can to help. Plus, I always find talking about my problems with someone makes me feel a lot better and more positive about them.”

Blaine nodded, looking pained once again. “You’re right – I’m sorry. I’m so used to bottling everything up and keeping it to myself.” He met Kurt’s eyes. “Whenever I reached my overflow limit I would go for a walk around the city with Wes and unload everything that had been troubling me for the last month or so on him. I always felt bad for doing it, but I couldn’t help it.” He lifted his shoulders in a small shrug. “I guess I’m doing the same thing now with you.”

Kurt smiled at him encouragingly and Blaine nodded his head slightly, as if agreeing with himself to tell Kurt.

“I- I’m worried it’s going to be a lot harder to live here than I expected and that I might not be able to experience all my dreams like I thought.” He gave a small shrug, his gaze dropping down to his lap. “Maybe I didn’t think this through all that well.”

Every muscle in Kurt’s body tensed, his heart seemed to stop beating, and everything around him stilled as he waited, waited, waited for the next line; for the confession that followed from what Blaine had said. His body suddenly felt much more fragile, and he had a vivid mental image of his hands holding a delicate porcelain heart, vulnerable to cracks and shattering.

Thankfully, his mind was still strong enough to not let this fragility show. He waited as Blaine’s eyes searched his for a moment, looking extremely conflicted. He waited, but it never came.

“I haven’t been sleeping well because of this,” Blaine continued, his voice shaking slightly. “I think being tired is making it worse; lack of sleep has always made it easier for me to wind myself up.”

Kurt exhaled slowly and his porcelain heart tentatively began to beat again. Maybe his gut feeling was wrong and Blaine wasn’t trying to prevent a painful fact from being released into the open. 

He pushed back his chair and got up to sit in the empty seat next to Blaine. Blaine turned to him with large, pained eyes which threatened to crack his heart. He reached for his boyfriend’s hands.

“I can’t promise you living here will be easy or that you will achieve everything you ever hoped to, but I will promise to do everything I can to make you happy and to have the life you always wished you could have,” he said softly.

Blaine bit his lip, his eyes becoming glassy with tears. Kurt let go of one of his hands in favour of cupping his face.

“I don’t know of any other people in your situation, but I can imagine they would be going through similar struggles,” he said as reassuringly as he could. “Travelling into the future could never be as easy and light-hearted like some people think; it was always going to be tough. Unfortunately, you didn’t have a say in coming here, but you do have a say in what happens now that you are here. It will get easier for you; you just have to get through the hard times first, and I’ll be here for them, I promise.”

Blaine managed a weak smile and when he turned his head to kiss Kurt’s palm, Kurt felt a tiny bit of tension leave him. Just a little.

He dipped his head to kiss the tip of Blaine’s nose. “Now let’s go cuddle in front of a dumb romantic comedy and then we can go to bed so you can catch up on some sleep.” He pecked Blaine on the lips and then sat back, smoothing his thumb over Blaine’s cheekbone. He made to draw his hand back, but Blaine reached up and covered it with his own, holding it against his face for a moment, before letting it slip away. Kurt stared at him as his hand fell back into his lap and then he stood up, tugging Blaine to his feet and trying to shake off the odd, nameless feeling that had settled over him.

Kurt barely watched the movie, focusing his attention instead on Blaine. He continually rubbed softly at his sides, massaged his biceps with his thumb, stroked the curve of his jaw and neck, and carded his fingers through the soft, gel-free hair at the back of his neck, his fingernails gently scratching his scalp. Blaine was lying heavily against him, his eyes half closed and his breathing deep and slow. He was warm and loose-limbed, and Kurt hoped that meant he was drowsy enough to get a good night’s sleep.

He clicked off the TV. “Come on,” he murmured, running his fingers through Blaine’s hair again and wishing Blaine had washed the gel out. “Bed time.” He helped Blaine unsteadily to his feet, allowing the smaller man to lean against him as they stumbled through to Kurt’s bedroom where he ignored Blaine’s sleepy protest and stripped them both down to their underwear before they fell into bed.

As soon as Kurt’s head hit the pillow he yawned hugely, hearing his jaw click quietly. He rolled over to face Blaine and curled himself around him, holding his boyfriend against his chest.

“Sweet dreams, Blaine.”

He got no response and realised Blaine had fallen asleep already. With a content sigh he nuzzled the back of Blaine’s neck and let his eyes fall shut, waiting for sleep to take him.

It didn’t. Instead his worries over Blaine rose to the surface again and he lay listening to Blaine’s soft, deep breathing as he fretted for over an hour before he finally exhausted himself enough to fall asleep.

The good night’s sleep seemed to help Blaine a little. The circles disappeared from beneath his eyes and the drawn look that had been on his face vanished, but the pain remained in his eyes, increasing as the days went by. Kurt knew Blaine’s reasons for keeping the worst of his troubles to himself, but it still hurt that Blaine wouldn’t tell him, and despite the fact that the thought of it made Kurt’s chest ache and the air inside of his lungs freeze solid, he decided he would be the one to voice it. 

So he did.

“I know,” Kurt whispered, tightness in his throat making any sort of volume impossible. “I know and it’s ok; I understand.”

With a puzzled frown on his face, Blaine looked up from the piano book he’d been pursuing. Kurt had abandoned his sketches almost twenty minutes ago, not long after Rachel had left for the theatre, recognising an ideal opportunity to bring up what they were both so desperately and fruitlessly trying to bury. It had taken him those last twenty minutes to work up the courage to speak.

“You… know?” Blaine repeated in confusion.

Kurt swallowed thickly and nodded, his hands shaking so badly he had to lace them together in his lap in an effort to control them. “I know-” His voice choked off and he had to pause to breathe around the stiff iron clamp squeezing his chest and to fight back the tears prickling in his eyes. “I- I know you want to go back.”

He spoke these words so quietly, barely a whisper, that he wasn’t sure Blaine had even heard him at first, but Blaine had frozen in place, his eyes widening marginally, his chest rising and falling quickly in a shallow gasp.

“But it’s ok,” Kurt assured him. He tried to clear his throat to make his voice sound less robotic, but something hard was sticking in it, causing him to make an odd choking sound. “It’s only natural for you to want to go back to your family – to where you belong.”

“Kurt-” Blaine’s eyes were filled with tears and the piano book slipped in his trembling grasp. He caught it mechanically before it fell and looked down at it as though he couldn’t remember what he was holding and why.

“I have always been surprised you chose to stay here,” Kurt continued, tears beginning to blur his vision. “I was delighted you did, of course, but like I said: if you’re not happy, then I’m not happy, and you haven’t been happy lately.”

“Kurt,” Blaine sobbed. Tears were flowing freely down his face now, but he didn’t raise a hand to wipe them away, letting them collect under his chin before dripping down onto his clothes where they left large, damp splotches.

Kurt’s lips had begun to tremble, but he ploughed resolutely on with his speech. “You want to go home and you have my blessing to do so. I’ll be happy knowing you’re back with your family and friends and the New York you are familiar with.”

He stopped there, unable to say anything more as pain flared through his chest and tears gathered thickly in the corners of his eyes. He bit his lip to stop it wobbling and blinked rapidly to try and clear the tears. He had to be strong for Blaine. He didn’t want him to stay here where he felt uncomfortable and wrong because of him and how upset he was. 

He wasn’t strong enough; seconds later the tears fell and a shallow, shaking, wet gasp of air escaped through his quivering lips.

Blaine was the picture of heartbroken and apologetic. His face was scrunched up with pain, his face was soaking wet and shiny with tears, and his large, wet eyes were filled with sadness and deep, sincere apology.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

The heavy rain that had started that morning became torrential. It lashed against the windows, hundreds of large drops drumming loudly against the glass as they were thrown against it by the wind. The sky darkened further, the lamps seeming to glow brighter, and tears continued to flow down the faces of two young men being torn apart by time.

As they gazed at each other the gale outside dropped a little and the rain was no longer being thrown violently against the windows. Instead, it pattered loudly against the window ledge, splashes tapping less severely against the glass, and streaked the windows in a steady flow, turning the outside world into a blur. If his life had been a movie, Kurt would have rolled his eyes at how cliché the weather was, but as it was, he appreciated how much it suited his mood and the situation.

“Will you dance with me?” Kurt asked quietly, the pitch of his voice rising and falling from his strong emotions. “One last time?”

Without saying anything, Blaine got to his feet, dropping the music book on the couch. He stumbled across the few strides between the two of them until he was in front of Kurt. 

He held out his hand in invitation, just as he’d done back on the night of the beautiful dinner date on the roof.

Another tear slid down Kurt’s face as he placed his hand in Blaine’s and got to his feet. As Blaine led them to a free space of floor, he swiped his arm under his chin, wiping away the tears clinging there. When Blaine reached a suitable spot, he spun to face Kurt and rested a hand on his waist.

“There’s no music,” he said.

“We don’t need any music,” Kurt replied, placing a hand on Blaine’s shoulder and holding back a sob when Blaine slid his hand round to the small of his back and pulled him close, hooking his chin over his shoulder. Squeezing his eyes shut, Kurt pressed his cheek against Blaine’s head and held him close as they started to dance, swaying slightly from side-to-side and taking tiny steps across the floor. They weren’t really dancing, more holding each other as they moved in a small circle. Their bare feet dragged against the wooden floors, making slight squeaking sounds every now and then. Tears streaked silently down both of their faces as they clutched each other tighter and closer. They could never be close enough.

“I will never forget you,” Kurt whispered.

Blaine’s response was to grip Kurt’s hand tighter and bury his face deeper into the curve of Kurt’s neck. Kurt could feel the dampness of his tears on his skin and shirt.

Kurt’s porcelain heart was cracking. Each breath he breathed in was filled with Blaine’s scent and it splintered another spidering crack into his heart. He would no longer be able to cuddle with Blaine on the couch, feel his arms curl around his waist from behind while he washed the dishes, or kiss him on the cheek before leaving for work. He’d hoped for so many more years with Blaine, for hundreds – thousands – more memories. He’d been looking forward to many more mornings of waking up with Blaine by his side, to Christmases in Ohio, to spontaneous trips away for birthdays or anniversaries or no good reason at all, and to stupid fights that ended after only a few hours with flowers and apologies. He’d wanted everything with him.

At some point they had stopped moving and were now simply standing in the middle of the floor holding each other close. Their hands were still clasped and held up level with their hearts, and their heads were still resting against each other, Blaine’s face tucked into Kurt’s neck. Rain continued to patter against the windows and the wind was still howling between the buildings every now and then. Kurt didn’t know how long they stood there like that, but eventually it began to dawn on him, slowly and painfully, that it would be best for both for them if Blaine left as soon as possible. If he stayed longer, dragging out the goodbye, Kurt didn’t think he could handle it; he would break down and either beg Blaine to stay or shut himself off like he had done after Liam left, only this would be worse.

As if their thoughts were synchronised, they both lifted their heads and stepped back from each other a little bit, just enough so they could see each other’s faces.

“It’s probably for the best if I try and go back today,” Blaine said in a thick, strangled voice. “I don’t think I could handle-” He bit back a sob. “I couldn’t manage another night together knowing I have to leave.”

Kurt nodded his understanding, far too choked up to speak. He sucked in a shuddering breath and tried to get his voice back. 

“We only have to contact the music store to tell them you’re leaving and Kayleigh to- to-” He couldn’t finish his sentence. 

Blaine’s face crumpled again and he let go of Kurt’s hand so he could throw his arms around him, pulling him into a fierce, tight hug. Kurt’s arms went over his shoulders, holding the smaller man against him. He squeezed his eyes shut when Blaine pressed his lips against his shoulder and felt more tears slipping down his face.

They held each other until it became too painful. Once they’d let go, Blaine went to go splash some water on his face and try and calm down enough to call his work, while Kurt picked up his cell phone from the table and scrolled through to Kayleigh’s number, feeling oddly detached from his body, as though he wasn’t sure if this was all real or not.

Kayleigh answered after only a few rings. Kurt was glad she was available to talk.

“Blaine wants to go back,” he said once she’d greeted him.

There was silence for a moment and the phone shook in Kurt’s grasp, then Kayleigh made a sad, sympathetic noise. 

“I’m so sorry, Kurt. I know you two are close.”

Kurt swallowed as another stab of pain flared in his chest. He couldn’t deal with sympathy or anyone trying to be comforting right now.

“Are you able to help him?” he asked.

“Of course,” Kayleigh assured him. “When?”

“Today if you can. It’s best if he goes back quickly.”

“Ok…” Kayleigh sounded more hesitant now, but she didn’t get it, she didn’t get how painful it was or how the need to get down on his knees and beg Blaine to stay was rising more strongly and rapidly inside of him the more time passed by.

“Can you do it today?” Kurt pressed.

“Yeah, no problem.” She paused. “How about at four? I can meet you outside the coffee shop.”

Kurt spun to look at the clock on the kitchen wall – that was just under two hours away; time for them to get ready and for travelling there.

“That should be fine. Thank you.”

“I’ll see you then,” Kayleigh said, before hanging up.

He dropped his phone down onto the couch and thought about collapsing next to it and letting himself cry, but decided not to.

He had to stay strong for Blaine. He could let all his pain out once he was gone.

Hearing footsteps behind him, he turned round, swiping away the tears on his cheeks, to find Blaine approaching him hesitantly, as if afraid of how being too close to Kurt would affect him. Blaine was still crying, his eyes red and watery, his cheeks puffy and shiny with tears. He’d changed into the clothes he’d been wearing on the day he’d arrived, but they were slightly rumpled and blotted with damp spots. Even though his clothes looked a mess, Kurt thought he was beautiful and there was still a giddy flutter in his chest at the sight of him.

“My boss was disappointed, but knew I would have to go back to Connecticut sometime. He understands,” Blaine said flatly.

Kurt found himself nodding in response. “I called Kayleigh,” he said and saw Blaine brace his hands on the back of the couch he was now standing by. “She’s going to meet you by the coffee shop at four.”

Blaine’s jaw tightened. He nodded stiffly. 

Kurt hesitated, twisting his hands together, hoping he wouldn’t upset Blaine even more with his next suggestion. “I- I think it’s best if I- If I don’t come with you.”

Blaine stared at him, his reaction difficult to discern through the multitude of emotions in his expression. 

“If you want me to come, then I’ll come,” Kurt added quickly. “I just think it would be better for both of us if I didn’t. I’d rather say our final goodbyes here.” He blinked as more tears welled up in his eyes.

“I think so, too,” Blaine whispered. He sniffed. “I don’t want a horrible, dragged-out goodbye. I don’t want the last you see of me to be me vanishing into the past. I- I’d rather say goodbye here in private and go meet Kayleigh alone.”

Kurt glanced at the clock again. One hour and forty minutes left. The tightness in his chest increased. 

“I’m going to wash my face quickly then I’ll…be back.” He waved his hand towards the bathroom.

He walked briskly down the hallway heading not for the bathroom, but Blaine’s bedroom at the end of the hall. As soon as he entered the small room he made a beeline for the dresser against the back wall. After tugging open the top drawer in which he knew Blaine kept his bowties, he rummaged through them until he found the one he’d bought him way back on their first shopping trip together. It was navy blue with red stripes. Blaine had worn it more than any of the others he’d acquired in his time here.

Slipping the bowtie into his pocket, he left the room, quickly washed up in the bathroom, and then returned to the living room where Blaine was sitting on the couch staring across the apartment, his forehead scrunched as though in pain.

Without saying anything, Kurt sat down next to him, looking over at the piano which had been getting so much use the last few weeks, beautiful music filling the apartment, but would now most likely be left to gather dust. Kurt didn’t think he’d be able to bear touching it again, not with so many memories of Blaine sitting playing it.

“I’m sorry it had to be this way,” Blaine said.

Kurt looked at him: he was still staring straight ahead, still frowning.

“No,” Kurt protested. He placed a hand on Blaine’s shoulder, making him turn his head to look at him. “No, don’t you dare be sorry! This isn’t your fault. It’s one of those things; one of those things that had to happen. We both knew it might when we started this relationship – hell, we knew it well before then – but we still carried on, we still allowed ourselves to grow closer. And do you know what?” He placed his left hand on Blaine’s other shoulder, holding his boyfriend’s gaze. “I don’t regret any of it, and I never will. All that time with you was more than worth it.”

Blaine sniffed, his frown smoothing into lines of sadness rather than self-torture. “Kurt,” he breathed.

Closing his eyes, Kurt leaned in and rested their foreheads together, his hands slipping over Blaine’s shoulders until his arms were looped around his neck. He didn’t know what he’d do without Blaine’s closeness and the feel of his skin on his own or his breath against his lips, but he’d deal with the pain later. Right now he wanted to savour every last second they had together.

As they sat there Kurt was aware of the time until Blaine had to leave trickling away like water in cupped hands. The ticking of time had never seemed so loud to him. He had never realised how powerful and significant it was. He had always thought of it as a convenience, an easy way to plan the day and arrange meetings; he’d never realised it could play so much stake in his life and happiness.

The clock was ticking and Kurt’s panic was rising. He wanted to somehow have everything with Blaine in the last hour they had together; to squeeze all the time they could have had into sixty short minutes. He also wanted to say goodbye to him properly, to express how much he’d miss him and how much he treasured their time together. He wanted all of this, but he had no idea how to do it or how to put his feelings into words.

"Can I kiss you?” Blaine whispered.

It pained Kurt that he felt he had to ask. Blaine was as lost as he was right now. Both of them had so much they wanted to express in a limited time and they had become unsure and almost shy.

“Blaine,” Kurt breathed, his hold on the other man tightening. “Of course.”

Kissing Blaine right now would hurt, he knew that, but he needed it desperately. If he didn’t share one last kiss with Blaine he would regret it for the rest of his days.

It was as slow and tentative as their first kiss had been – a bittersweet reminder. Blaine’s breath ghosted over Kurt’s mouth for a moment, his lips tantalisingly close, and then the sliver of space between them vanished as their lips were pressed together. Their mouths moved together sweetly and slowly, like they were getting to know each other for the first time. Blaine’s lips were salty from his tears and this, plus the sweet sadness of the kiss, made a few more tears spill down Kurt’s cheeks.

They broke the kiss after a short period. Kurt basked in the rush of both warm and painful emotions that rose up inside of him, until desperation burst out of him in a whine and he surged forwards to capture Blaine’s mouth in his own again. Blaine’s hand fisted in the back of his shirt as they kissed, his lips parting beneath Kurt’s, allowing Kurt to slip his tongue inside. Kurt hoped this was something he’d never forget: these feelings of need and love and electricity and connection. He couldn’t see himself ever feeling this way about another person, so he hoped his memory would hold onto this, to all of Blaine and every second they had shared together.

When they parted to breathe, gasping breaths drawn into heaving lungs, Kurt slipped his hand down and pulled the bowtie from his pocket. With a quick glance up at Blaine, he tucked it quickly and discreetly into the pocket of Blaine’s pants. Something for him to remember him by, in case details slipped from his mind. A token from his visit to the future. He just hoped it would survive the journey back through time.

They spent their precious remaining time together holding each other, whispering soft words of affection and remembrance, and exchanging passionate kisses. Kurt tried to keep his eyes open and on Blaine so he could commit every tiny detail, every miniscule freckle on Blaine’s nose, to memory. It wasn’t easy and his eyes often slipped closed when he became lost in the feeling of Blaine’s lips on his or his hand caressing his face. He opened his eyes after one such kiss and, with a heavy sigh, turned to look at the clock.

Four minutes until Blaine had to leave.

The slump of his posture and the sharp increase of sadness in his eyes had Blaine checking the clock as well. He echoed Kurt’s resigned sigh.

“I have to go,” he whispered.

“You have to go,” Kurt agreed. They really couldn’t put off him leaving much longer. They’d agreed for him to meet Kayleigh at a specific time and they didn’t want to make her wait, not after everything she’d done for them.

Blaine’s arms tightened around Kurt’s waist and he pressed his face into the spot where his neck met his shoulder, inhaling deeply. Kurt kissed his head and tried his best not to start bawling. 

After a long moment, Blaine drew back, lifting his head and meeting Kurt’s eyes with a watery gaze. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”

“Blaine…” Kurt chastised. There was nothing for him to be thanked for. 

“I’m serious, Kurt,” Blaine said, his voice sincere and firm beneath his tears. “You’ve given me so much.”

Smiling sadly, Kurt caressed Blaine’s cheek affectionately. “Thank you for trusting me.”

Blaine looked like he wanted to say something else but perhaps he couldn’t find the words. Instead he leant in to kiss him again – short, sweet, and sad.

One minute to go.

Kurt sat back and, mutely, gestured towards the front door. Blaine bit his lip and nodded.

Their hands remained joined as they stood up and moved over to the door, feet dragging out each step in an effort to make time slow down. Far too soon they reached the door.

They stared at each other. Thousands of words, hundreds of touches, countless smiles: all would be missed out on, and there was nothing that could be said or done in their final minute together that could replace them. The look they shared implied that which pained them too much to say: hoping the other would find happiness, would get to achieve their dreams, and would never forget the time they shared.

Blaine stepped forward for one last hug, both of them gripping the back of each other’s shirts and crying silently into their shoulders, then they broke apart, their hands still clinging on to each other as Blaine moved closer to the door, until they were forced to let go.

With his hand on the door handle, Blaine held Kurt’s gaze.

“I read in a book one time I was in the library that when we look at the stars we see not how they appear at that very moment, but rather how they were years and years ago. They are from the past as well. When you look at the stars, think of me, and I’ll do the same for you. Then we will still be connected, in a way.” A corner of Blaine’s mouth lifted into a sad smile. “The world changes a lot as time goes by, but the sky doesn’t. We’ll be looking at the same sky.”

Kurt was speechless; his tears and emotions finally choking up his throat completely. He could only nod his head in agreement to Blaine’s words and watch as Blaine seemed to struggle with himself for a moment, before he swallowed and opened the door.

“Goodbye, Kurt.”

He stepped out into the hall and was about to close the door when Kurt managed to unstick his throat enough to choke out, “Goodbye.”

The sound of the door closing behind him was horrible. It would never open to reveal him again.

With a strangled sob, Kurt stumbled towards the door, before realising what he was doing and stopping. He couldn’t go chasing after Blaine; it wouldn’t do any good. 

Tears flowing thick and fast down his face and with broken, gasping sobs being ripped from his body every few seconds, Kurt stood staring at the door for what must have been a good twenty minutes. He had no idea what to do with himself and no motivation to go anywhere else, so he just stood there. He didn’t know what made him eventually turn on his heel and pad through to Blaine’s room, his walk uncoordinated and unbalanced; he was almost surprised when he found himself standing in the small room that smelt painfully like Blaine.

Something lying on the bed caught his eye. Numbly, with only a ghost of curiosity, he shuffled over to see what it was, letting out a broken cry when he recognised it.

Blaine’s pocket watch.

With a shaking hand, he picked it up, turning the cool, gold watch over in his hand and smoothing his thumb over the abstract, swirling engraving on the cover. He’d always admired the watch which he’d learnt had been passed down to Blaine from his grandfather. He couldn’t believe that Blaine had left it for him. Like the bowtie he had slipped in Blaine’s pocket, Blaine must have wanted Kurt to have something of his; something to remind him that what they’d had wasn’t a dream.

“Blaine,” he breathed, rubbing his thumb over the cover again. 

It suddenly hit him that he’d never had the chance to tell Blaine just how much he cared for him, how much he meant to him. Bashfulness, lack of courage, and worry about the nature of their relationship had made him keep these feelings to himself. He didn’t think he’d ever regretted anything so much before as he was regretting not telling Blaine how he really felt.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he clutched the pocket watch hard in his hand, as if by holding something so personal to Blaine so tightly he could somehow communicate telepathically with him.

“I love you, Blaine,” he whispered. “I love you so much and I wish I’d told you.”

With a pained whimper, Kurt opened his eyes again and swiped at the tears clinging to his face. He unclenched his fist to look at the watch and slid his finger around the side until he caught the tiny catch to allow him to flip the cover open. Blinking away tears, he looked down at the white face of the watch, distantly noticing a miniscule scratch near the top. 

Then he noticed the time.

4.03pm.

His knees gave out and he collapsed on the floor, his choked sobs giving way to ones that wracked his whole body.

Blaine was gone.


	13. Chapter 13

The darkness slowly gave way to blurred color and then – a blink of his eyes – a concrete pavement. Nausea churned in his stomach and his head felt strange: slightly dizzy and with an odd, squeezing pressure. An overwhelming sense of disorientation filled him, and it took him several long seconds before he was able to make sense of anything beyond the dizzying, lost feeling. 

Swallowing against the nausea and willing himself not to vomit, Blaine tried his best to breathe deeply and slowly, wanting the shakiness and the spinning sensation in his head to pass. He could dimly hear someone talking to him over a dull hum of background noise, but the ringing in his ears and heaving of his lungs made the words impossible to discern. There was a burning pain in his chest that flared up each time he sucked in a breath, like he had a sharp shard of glass pierced through his lung; it didn’t seem to be fading like the nausea and dizziness gradually were.

Cold sweat was clinging to his lower back, upper lip, and the creases of his elbows, he could feel it prickling uncomfortably, but couldn’t raise a hand to wipe it away. His cheeks felt cold and wet, too; he didn’t know why.

The ringing in his ears faded and his hearing suddenly came back, city noise assaulting his ears like it was on a radio that had just been tuned in. He started a little at the burst of sound, his spine jolting in a way that was almost painful. He breathed in again and another pulse of pain stabbed through him.

“Blaine?”

It took him a moment to recognise the name being called as his own and another to realise the concerned voice belonged to his friend, Wes. Though his head was no longer spinning, his thoughts and memories were like thick honey, flowing slowly out from the depths of his mind.

Tilting his head back, he lifted his gaze up from the ground.

“Wes?” he said weakly.

His friend was crouching in front of him, his expression deeply concerned. He looked a little paler than normal and his mouth was drawn into a tight, thin line, his lips bleached of colour.

“How do you feel?” Wes asked him in an almost calm voice containing only the barest tremor. “Is your head ok?”

“I-” Blaine frowned as he tried to make sense of the swirling mess of thoughts and memories in his head. He still couldn’t remember what had happened, what had led him to being slumped on the pavement in front of his worried friend. A stray thought plucked from the muddle in his head pointed out that maybe he’d fallen unconscious and that’s why he couldn’t remember.

“What happened?” he asked, hoping an explanation would trigger a memory.

Wes shook his head, looking rather stunned and a little panicked. “I don’t know,” he replied. “You were talking and then all of a sudden you just collapsed. It felt like you were out for ages and I was worried you’d hit your head.”

Blaine’s frown deepened – none of that sounded like the full explanation of what had happened. He wondered if a head injury was the problem.

“I don’t think I hit my head,” he said, lifting a hand to feel around at the back of his head, pushing his fingers up beneath his hat. “It doesn’t hurt anywhere.”

“And you can’t feel a lump? You don’t feel sick or dizzy do you?”

Lowering his hand, Blaine shook his head. “Not anymore, no.”

Wes blew out a sigh of relief. “Good. You should still have a doctor look at it, just to be sure.” He held out a hand. “Do you think you can stand up?”

The dizziness was completely gone, the uncontrollable trembling had all but passed, and everything in his mind was slowly settling back into place; Blaine was sure he would be fine to get to his feet. He didn’t particularly want to sit on the ground for too long.

Accepting Wes’ hand, Blaine clambered slowly to his feet, staggering only slightly as he straightened up. He leaned against the wall behind him for balance as his head swam again, but thankfully, the dizziness passed quickly and soon he was looking out over the street feeling almost normal except for the pain in his chest and the cool dampness on his cheeks.

“Are you still alright?” Wes asked him.

Blaine didn’t hear him. He was gazing at the buildings across the road, an unsettled feeling and sense of wrong building up inside of him. Something wasn’t right.

Dragging his gaze away from the buildings and scanning the cars passing by, the alien feeling increased. A flutter of panic made his stomach clench with unease – why did almost everything look foreign and strange? His eyes drifted to the people walking by them and he blinked at the almost unfamiliar fashions, at the lack of variety in the outfits people were wearing. He didn’t understand what was going on.

It hit him with an almighty crashing of a large tidal wave; dozens of memories came flooding to the forefront of his mind.

Kurt, the future, time travel. 

Piercing pain sliced through his chest, pain so sharp he slapped a hand to clutch over his heart. The unsettled feeling in his stomach gave way to emptiness, an aching loss that sent him reeling. It was hard not to fall to the ground again and curl up in a ball. He wanted nothing more than to cry like he hadn’t been able to back in Kurt’s apartment.

Kurt…

He screwed up his face, trying desperately to hold back his tears and pain for a little longer; he couldn’t show it in front of Wes.

Dropping his hand from his chest, he forced a neutral mask onto his face, something that took a tremendous effort. From the lingering concern on Wes’ face he knew he wasn’t doing a good job of acting as though his heart hadn’t just shattered, the shrapnel tearing up his insides; like he hadn’t just walked away from his dreams, making what was possibly the biggest mistake of his life.

“I’m ok,” he told Wes, trying to sound reassuring. “I just felt a little-” He broke off, staring, horrified, at Wes.

Wes had said he’d collapsed and fallen unconscious; to Wes, he’d only been out for a brief moment. It was still the exact same day and time now as it had been before he’d travelled. No time had passed here at all.

The realisation hit him like a heavy blow to the stomach. No time had passed here. It was as if he’d never travelled. What he and Kurt had feared was true. Did this mean his time in the future had been erased? That Kurt would have no idea who he was? The thought was painful, so much so that Blaine was surprised he didn’t have any visible wounds, that he wasn’t bleeding out onto the pavement. Surely it wasn’t possible to feel this much pain and not have it leave a single physical mark.

His knees were shaking so badly he almost collapsed to the ground again. Wes was saying his name, but Blaine could think of nothing but Kurt and how their time together may no longer happen.

But then…

He frowned as he grappled with everything inside his head. His thoughts were still flowing strangely, rushing at him in great dollops of realisation or trickling slowly into understanding. It was difficult to focus when he ached so much and his eyes burned with the tears they fought to shed. He felt like he was screwing up every ounce of his concentration, yet it wasn’t enough. He rubbed at his forehead with his hand – hard.

If he still knew about Kurt and remembered his time with him in 2014, then didn’t it follow that Kurt would remember him? He couldn’t see why only one of them would keep the memories.

“Do you need me to get an ambulance?” 

Blaine gave his head a little shake, focusing on Wes again. His friend looked almost scared now.

“No,” Blaine said, pushing away from the wall he’d been leaning against and taking a shaky step away from it. “No, I’m fine. I just felt a little light-headed again for a moment.”

Wes didn’t look entirely convinced, but he nodded all the same. “If you’re sure. You still need to go see a doctor, though.”

“I will,” Blaine promised. “Just – no hospitals.” He swallowed as he looked at the coffee shop they were standing beside, the sign proclaiming it as being newly opened hanging in the window. “I need to go home and lie down for a bit,” he said, turning his back on the café and starting to walk up the street.

Wes caught up to him. “Doctors on the way back,” he said firmly.

Beneath the pain and loss, Blaine felt a warm exasperation at Wes’ fussing. It was nice seeing him again, he had missed him.

At Wes’ insistence, they made a stop at the doctor’s office where Blaine got a quick check-up, awkwardly explaining his symptoms as dizziness and having fallen briefly unconscious. With nothing medically wrong with him, he prayed the doctor wouldn’t take too long – he just wanted to get home and lie down and not move for hours – and was relieved when after several questions and a couple of quick tests, the doctor said he was ok to go.

As soon as he was home and had been left alone by a still-concerned Wes, Blaine dragged himself up to his bedroom, feeling immensely relieved that his parents were out so he didn’t have to speak to them. Dimly, he realised this was wrong – he should be anxious to see them after months of being parted from them – but all he could think about was Kurt and everything else he had left behind.

There was no sense of comfort when he walked into his room. Though his books stood on the shelves, his trophies sat on the dresser, and one of his coats hung on the back of the desk chair, there was no welcoming or homely feel to the room. He immediately missed the room he’d had at Kurt’s apartment; a room which felt so much more like his than this one did.

After tossing his hat onto his dresser, he shrugged out of his coat and draped it over the top of the one on the chair at his desk. As he did so, his hand brushed the pocket of his pants, his fingers skimming against some smooth material sticking out of it.

Curious, he pulled the material out, his breath catching in his throat when he saw what it was. It was the navy and red bowtie Kurt had bought him, his favorite of all the ones he owned. Kurt must have slipped it in his pocket at some point.

Holding the bowtie gently, as though it were made of delicate glass, he smoothed it between his trembling fingers. This was solid, physical proof he’d been in the future with Kurt, that the last few months hadn’t been a wild dream or vivid hallucination. This was a gift from Kurt he could hold onto, a piece of the man he loved he could keep with him forever. And while seeing and holding it was a painful reminder of everything he’d had and left behind, it brought back all the happy memories which he would remember fondly, and it would always remind him of his love for Kurt should time ever make him forget it.

Seeing the bowtie gave him hope that Kurt would get the pocket watch he’d left for him. If the bowtie had survived the time travel then he couldn’t see why the watch wouldn’t. 

He only hoped Kurt wouldn’t examine the watch with confusion, having no idea where it had come from. He knew it would be painful for Kurt to be reminded of him, and he never wanted to cause Kurt pain, but he needed Kurt to remember him; needed them to keep that connection with each other.

Acting on impulse, on a sudden strong need for Kurt, Blaine lifted the bowtie to his nose and inhaled deeply. The slight smell of the fabric and, beneath that, the lighted trace of Kurt’s scent.

Tears welling up in his eyes and heart clenching painfully, Blaine staggered over to his bed where he collapsed down on top of the covers, curling up into a tight ball on his side with the bowtie still clutched in his fist. Tears fell thick and fast down his face, soaking a spot on the bed under his face. His body shook with sobs and his lungs heaved as he struggled to breathe around it all. It felt like shards of his broken heart were constantly stabbing and piercing inside his chest whilst the remaining pieces that hadn’t fragmented away were clinging together with fragile bonds. 

After a couple of minutes of crying he tried to remind himself that he had chosen to come back here, he had decided it was for the best that he leave Kurt; he really didn’t have much right to be as distressed and broken as this. This did nothing to help, and, in fact, made him even more upset as it reminded him that Kurt had wanted him to stay. He was little better than Liam – they had both walked out of Kurt’s life with no plans to ever see or contact him again.

Shuddering violently and somehow crying even harder than earlier – nose running, face damp, red, and blotchy – Blaine pressed his mouth into his arms to muffle the loud gasps and sobs filling the room. He had no idea what time his parents would be back and he didn’t want to try and explain his current state to them.

He lay there for what must have been hours – time became meaningless when he was so lost in pain and loss – and eventually he exhausted himself so much he fell asleep. When he woke he felt rather like a wrung sponge, like all his emotions had left him in his tears. He felt hollow and drained, and all he could do was lie there, unmoving, staring numbly at the small section of his bookcase he could see. His face felt raw, the skin beneath his eyes puffy, and his eyes stung slightly whenever he blinked. The spot beneath his face was still damp – he wondered how long he’d cried while he slept.

After a while he became aware of voices sounding from downstairs and realised this must have been what had woken him – his parents were home. He knew he should go downstairs and greet them, knew he should want to do so, but he didn’t have the energy to get up, much less the strength and control to act as though everything was normal. Despite having just woken up he didn’t feel at all rested; in fact, he felt more tired, more bone-weary, than he had before he’d fallen asleep. He was both mentally and physically exhausted, his body aching from crying for so long and the strain of travelling back through time. All he felt like he was capable of doing was lying on his bed and letting time pass, hoping it would eventually heal his wounds.

It was only when he heard his name being mentioned – his mother saying something about waiting for him to return home before they had dinner – that he realised he couldn’t stay curled up on his bed until he felt like moving. As much as he hated the thought of it, he would have to spend time with his parents this evening. If he didn’t go downstairs they would eventually check in his room for him and then ask all sorts of questions that Blaine simply didn’t have the answers for. He would just have to put on a brave face and hope he could hold himself together long enough to get through dinner before he could fake a headache and return to his room. He was tempted to fake illness now so he could spend the evening alone in bed, but a prickle of guilt stirred in his stomach at the thought of avoiding his parents after he hadn’t seen them in so long and had almost left them for good.

With a groan he sat up, his back twinging from being curled up for so long and prickling pins-and-needles flooding his right arm from it being curved at an awkward angle. Shaking it out, he slipped his legs over the edge of the bed and got to his feet, staggering slightly as his leg muscles cramped up. He hobbled towards the bathroom, walking slightly hunched over like a crippled old man, where he stood in front of the mirror hanging over the sink and examined his reflection.

His eyes were red and dull, not a flicker of light or happiness to be seen in them, and the puffy bags under them were red and shiny where they had been damp and rubbed dozens of times over the last few hours. His nose was also red and his lips were dry and cracking. His skin looked blotchy and his hair was breaking free from the gel in places, sticking up in ruffled patches. His clothes were creased and his bowtie was askew. He looked far from the put-together man he hoped to pass as when he went downstairs.

Eyes dropping from his ragged reflection, he reached to straighten his bowtie, pausing when he realised he was still clutching the one Kurt had slipped in his pocket. His heart squeezed painfully as he gazed down at it and he was relieved he had reached the stage where he was beyond crying – he didn’t know how long it would take him to stop the tears if they came again. He uncurled his fist from around the bowtie, frowning when he saw it had become creased in his grasp. Reverently, he smoothed them out, before folding it up neatly and setting it aside to take back through to his room.

He suddenly wanted to get dinner with his parents over with. As quickly as he could he straightened his clothes, washed his face with cold water, tidied up his hair, and did his best to school his features into a neutrally pleasant expression. When he was satisfied he looked presentable, he left the bathroom, placed his bowtie carefully on his nightstand, and then headed downstairs towards the sound of his parent’s voices.

“Oh, Blaine, dear, I didn’t hear you come in,” his mother said, glancing up at him briefly as she repositioned the fresh flowers in the vase in the centre of the dining table. “We were wondering when you would be home; we didn’t want to start dinner without you.”

Tears were burning in Blaine’s eyes again and he had to fight to stop them from sliding down his face. Seeing his parents again and hearing his mother’s voice brought up a teary joy that, earlier, he’d been concerned he wasn’t feeling. Even his father’s indifferent nod over the top of his newspaper made a warmth swirl inside of him. Maybe losing Kurt for his family had been the right thing to do after all.

The three of them settled around the table for dinner and talked about their days – a typical family moment that had been absent from Blaine’s time in the future. It was nice to listen to his father tell a story about something that had happened at the country club; comforting to hear his mother talk excitedly about some dance she was helping to organise. 

And then his mother asked him how his day had been.

Blaine’s throat abruptly turned dry and he struggled to swallow his mouthful of vegetables. The pain in his chest, which had dulled to a mild burn since he’d been downstairs, flared up again, crushing and sharp. His stomach felt both hollow and twisted tight, making his appetite vanish. His day hadn’t been just a morning and an afternoon; it had been months. He’d seen a whole different world, experienced a different era, had his dreams within touching distance, and fallen in love in this day.

He cleared his throat and tried to hide the fact that his hands were shaking.

“It was alright,” he said, doing his best to sound nonchalant. “I didn’t do much; just spent some time with Wes.”

His mother nodded, but his father frowned.

“You spend a bit too much time with this Wes fellow,” he said disapprovingly. “Why don’t you spend it with Anna like your mother and I suggested?”

This one comment was enough to remind Blaine of why he had wanted to stay in the future. Over the last few days, while he’d been thinking of returning home, he’d forgotten how much his parents had been pushing him to spend time with a girl called Anna, the daughter of a friend of theirs.

“I- It’s been a while since I’ve had a proper chat with Wes.” Blaine’s defence sounded feeble to his own ears.

“Nonsense! You were over visiting him only the other day,” his father reminded him. He scooped up a piece of carrot with his fork. “Invite Anna out for lunch tomorrow.”

Blaine frantically tried to think of an excuse to get out of it, his mind contemplating and discarding several possibilities, until an idea popped into his head, one which would get him out of the lunch date and give him some time alone to try and recover from leaving Kurt.

“I’ll give her a call tomorrow morning,” he told his father, doing his best to sound as earnest as possible.

His father nodded curtly. “Good.” The he turned to his wife and began discussing something to do with his work.

Blaine dropped his gaze to his plate, pushing his carrots and green beans around with his fork and trying to think of the best, most realistic way of claiming he was feeling a bit ill and wished to go to bed.

It was only after dinner was over and his mother was talking about having coffee in the living room that Blaine found the perfect opportunity. When his mother turned to him and asked if he wanted coffee, he shook his head, his face screwed up in a pained expression that he didn’t have to fake.

“I think I’ll give it a miss. I have a rather bad headache coming on.” He motioned towards the stairs. “I think I’ll have an early night.”

His mother nodded at him. “Ok, dear. Goodnight.” And then she wandered off to the kitchen, clearly back to thinking about coffee. 

Blaine watched her go, feeling both relieved and disappointed. While he was glad his mother hadn’t questioned his headache or was showing too much interest in him when he was liable to break down at any moment, it was rather depressing to be brushed off all the time. It wasn’t that big of a deal when he was just claiming a simple headache, but neither of his parents had ever shown any real concern or sympathy whenever he’d been ill or injured, not even after he’d fallen off a horse and bruised his hip and arm so badly he’d been in pain whenever he moved. He’d never thought much of their indifference until now; the stark contrast between how his mother had just reacted and how he knew Kurt would was staggering.

Trying not to crave Kurt’s warm embrace and caring kisses too much, Blaine headed upstairs where he quickly got ready for bed. Once the light was out and he was under the covers, he allowed himself to let go of the mask he’d been wearing throughout dinner and all the emotions he’d been fighting to keep repressed rushed to the surface. 

He hated how he’d been forced to choose between the most important people in his life. What had he done to make his life turn out this way? He was jealous, unbelievably so, of all the people who had it easy, who fell in love, got married, and had their friends and family over for dinner on a regular basis. Why had he got such a shitty deal in life? Why had he had it so hard right from the beginning? First the creeping, panic-inducing realisation he was different from most people, the horror of understanding why, followed by years of fighting to keep his true self hidden, and then finally seeing hope and falling in love with the most wonderful, beautiful man only to have to choose between what was right and what he wanted. It wasn’t fair.

Pillow now damp from tears, Blaine sniffled and rolled over so his head wasn’t resting on the wet patch. His gaze landed on Kurt’s bowtie and he stretched out an arm for it before letting it fall back down on his bed. It wasn’t some bowtie that he wanted to hold, it was Kurt himself, a man who didn’t even exist yet.

Curling up into a tight ball, Blaine shut his eyes and willed sleep to come, wanting nothing more than to slip into unconsciousness and escape from his thoughts and memories. It may only be temporary relief, and he knew waking up would be extremely painful, but he needed it more than anything. He needed to get away from the image of Kurt burnt in his mind.

The more he willed himself to fall asleep the more sleep evaded him. He began begging inside his own head, willing his body to give up the fight to stay awake, but it seemed determined to make him suffer through his pain. He kept hoping exhaustion would eventually take him like it had earlier and it finally did, pulling him into an uneasy sleep hours after he’d gone to bed.

When he woke the next morning he didn’t think he’d have to fake illness. His throat was scratchy and hoarse from crying, the muscles in his back and legs were cramped from lying so stiffly, his eyes felt heavy and stung in the light coming through the curtains, and his head felt stuffy like he had a cold. Despite hours of sleep he still felt drained and weary and he knew without looking that there were dull circles under his eyes. But worst of all was the return of the memories of where he was and why that hit him like an arrow to the chest when he opened his eyes and saw his bedroom instead of the one in Kurt’s apartment. He didn’t know if he wanted to go back to sleep so he could forget about it for a while or if he wanted to suffer. Because he deserved all of this pain; he was the one who’d made the decision to return.

When his mother knocked softly on his door asking when he was coming down for breakfast, his croaky voice and the choked cough that escaped when he cleared his throat convinced her that he was ill. She didn’t even open his door to see if he was ok, though she did ask if he needed anything; he had to give her credit for that.

Kurt would have fussed over him: made him soup, offered him a selection of books to read, plumped his pillows…

With a groan he rolled onto his back where he stared at the ceiling and tried to ignore the nagging pain in his chest and the insistent urge to burst into tears. He wondered if this was what the books he’d read meant when they talked about heartbreak. In the books a character wept with loss when they discovered the one who held their heart didn’t love them, but if this was heartbreak, then the books had never managed to convey the true extent of pain and loss, nor had they mentioned the feeling of wrongness or disorientation. Some might say he was being overly dramatic, but he honestly had no idea what to do with his life now that Kurt was gone from it. Kurt had been the one to light the path of his future and now the lights were out and he was stumbling blindly through the dark once more.

He spent the entire day in bed. At one point around mid-morning the house fell completely still and silent in a manner he knew meant he was home alone. He told himself to take the opportunity to go downstairs to get some food, but he just wasn’t hungry. So he never left his bed. Aside from a couple of visits to the bathroom, he stayed in bed all day, curled up beneath the covers, occasionally dozing, and doing a poor job of trying not to think of Kurt or what he would be doing if he was in the future right now. It hurt, and the pain never eased any as the hours ticked slowly by. He cycled through periods where one particular emotion dominated: guilt, loss, fear, worry… 

In the afternoon, the regret hit.

Everything he’d ever wanted to do for Kurt or say to him lingered in the forefront of his mind, mocking him. All the dates he’d wanted to take him on, the surprise breakfast in bed he’d been planning, telling him how much he adored that wayward lock of his hair that flopped down over his forehead in the morning and after a long day at work. But most painful was the fact that he’d never gotten to tell Kurt he loved him. He’d come close to saying it so many times, had had dozens of opportunities, but he’d never told him and Blaine hated himself for never plucking up the courage to do so.

Once he’d wallowed in regret and self-hatred for a while he began to wonder if saying those three words to Kurt would have changed his current situation. If Kurt felt the same, he might have stayed, or if it turned out Kurt didn’t love him (Blaine’s battered heart clenched painfully at the thought), he may have returned to this time a little less heartbroken than he was now. Of course, there was always the possibility Kurt declared his love for him and Blaine still returned to this time where he would suffer even more knowing he had left everything behind rather than a possible everything.

After another two days passed and Blaine showed no signs of leaving the comforting cocoon he’d created in his bed, his mother entered his room and offered to call the doctor out to see him. Blaine struggled upright.

“No,” he protested rather bluntly, causing his mother to blink in surprise. “I mean, I’m swell; it was just a cold.” He smiled weakly, trying his best not to look like he was still dying inside.

His mother looked slightly hesitant. “Well…if you’re sure.”

Blaine nodded vigorously. “Positive. I’ll be out of bed tomorrow.”

His mother hovered in the doorway for a moment, seemingly unsure of what to do, before she smiled and backed out of the room.

Once the door had been closed behind her, Blaine slumped back down against the pillows with a small groan.

Tomorrow he would have to go back to pretending everything was fine and life was swell. He had no idea how he was going to manage it. In spite of the three days in bed he felt utterly exhausted, as if simply being awake tired him out. He didn’t know how he was going to find the energy to get through tomorrow – or any day from now on. What didn’t help was that he was struggling to sleep. Whenever he settled down and tried to fall asleep his mind would start taunting him with memories of falling asleep next to Kurt, of the feel of his thumb rubbing lazily at his waist, and the sight of him with sleepy eyes and mussed hair. When he did eventually fall asleep, he was yanked back to consciousness not long afterwards, sweating and shaking, his hand reaching across to the empty side of the bed. He could never remember what happened in the nightmares that woke him, but they always left him with a desperate yearning for Kurt and an aching loneliness.

That night, after he’d refused dinner and his room had darkened to the point where he could only make out the outlines of his furniture, Blaine climbed out of bed and walked over to the window on unsteady legs weakened from several days of inactivity. He pulled open the curtains and then leant on the window sill, staring out at the night sky as he had done every night since returning to this time; like he had promised Kurt he would do.

The stars were bright in a large patch of clear sky almost directly ahead of him. The heavy rain from earlier had stopped and the dark clouds had thinned, allowing moonlight to penetrate and cast a yellowish glow in the sky. It was impossible to tell if the stars he was seeing now were identical to the ones that had shone over twenty-first century New York, but knowing that in ninety-one years’ time Kurt would be looking up at the night sky and thinking of him was enough.

While he had been doing his best not to think of Kurt as he lay in bed during the day, not wanting painful memories to torture him for hours, he always let his walls down when he was looking at the sky. This hour or so when he gazed at the stars was when he allowed himself to remember the softness of Kurt’s skin and the way his eyes lit up to a bright blue upon greeting Blaine after a day at work; how he smelt and the soft smile he wore on his face before they said goodnight. Remembering all of this hurt, but Blaine didn’t want to forget it either; he wanted to hold on to as many of the minute details as he could, and if he allowed himself to freely remember during this hour at night then he was hopeful he’d never forget them.

He sighed deeply as he stared at one particularly large star that was flickering by a thin wisp of cloud. He didn’t know why he had thought he should come back to his own time; he’d known nothing would have changed, that it would still be as tiring and depressing living here as it always had been. And now he had the pain of losing Kurt and everything else he’d had in the future on top of that. It was truly awful.

He was beginning to think he’d made a huge mistake in returning.

A part of him wished he was one of those people who could easily sever ties with the family who were holding them back and move away to start a new life in their own. A smaller part of him was glad he wasn’t so heartless.

Logically, he knew he had every reason to walk out of his parents’ lives. They had never shown much affection towards him, wouldn’t let him follow his passions, and would most definitely kick him out and disown him if they learned he was homosexual. His parents barely even knew him, yet something still made him hold on to the relationship he had with them and made him unable to follow his heart. Guilt and fear of being heartless and having a little love for his family along with an ingrained habit to follow what was right made him return to this time, and he was sure it was only a matter of time before these feelings weren’t enough to keep him going through life here. He knew he would snap eventually and would probably be labelled mentally unstable when he did.

Blaine bit his lip as more pain flared up inside him. It maybe was a mistake returning to this time, but he’d made the decision and had travelled back, so he would have to stick with it. There was nothing else he could do.

 

~ * ~

Rachel found him some time later. Kurt didn’t know what time it was, but the room had darkened considerably, the glow of the city filtering in through the window casting odd shapes on the floor. He hadn’t even noticed the time passing. The sun had set, darkness had fallen and he hadn’t seen it happen, caught in a trance-like state of numbness where he was feeling so much at once that it was like he was feeling nothing at all, like he had been emptied of all emotion.

He only noticed Rachel when she was kneeling in front of him.

“Kurt? What’s wrong?” 

She sounded scared, and her fear was what broke him out of his numbness. He blinked as Rachel’s worried face came into focus, his breath catching as pain of what had happened slammed back into his body. Blaine’s pocket watch was still in his hand, the metal circle digging into his palm. He had a death-grip on it, as if afraid something would try and pry it from him. He could feel the tears still clinging to his face.

“Kurt?” Rachel placed a hand gently on his shoulder and Kurt had to fight the urge to flinch away from her touch. 

“He’s gone,” he whispered.

Frowning, Rachel leant forwards slightly, straining to hear what he’d said. His voice had been barely louder than a quiet exhale, but he couldn’t control the volume of it; he was honestly surprised he was able to speak at all.

A shadow of something was beginning to form in Rachel’s eyes, behind the confusion and fear currently dominating her expression. “Blaine’s gone?” Kurt’s body gave an involuntary jerk at her words and her eyes darkened, the confusion swiftly being replaced by rage. “That bastard left you? After everything he said and all the promises he made, he’s gone and left you in this mess?” Her voice got louder and higher with indignation and Kurt winced as it pierced his ears, his head immediately beginning to throb insistently.

“No,” he croaked out, drawing his legs up close to his chest so he was curled over in a protective ball.

Rachel’s furious expression faltered. “No?” she echoed in confusion. “But, you just said-”

Kurt hunched over further, squeezing the watch tight. “Not…like that.”

Eyes searching his face expectantly, confusion slowly leaked back into Rachel’s expression. She was still frowning and her face was tight with tension. Her chest was rising and falling in shallow breaths and she looked slightly hesitant, almost as if she was afraid of what was to come.

Kurt was finding it difficult and he would really prefer to be left alone, but he needed Rachel to understand. He didn’t want her blaming Blaine and screaming abuse at him when he hadn’t done anything wrong.

With some difficulty, he sucked in a shaky breath – his lungs weren’t working too well. “He didn’t want to go,” he said. “He really didn’t want to go – but he had to.”

Rachel shifted slightly. Nearly all of the anger had drained out of her. “Kurt – what?”

Kurt held up a hand to stop her. “Can we not? I- I can’t do this just now.” Seeing Rachel open her mouth to protest, he fixed her with a pleading look. “Please, Rachel. I can’t-”

Rachel nodded. “Ok.” She got to her feet, her concerned gaze running anxiously over his hunched-over form. “Ok. We can talk about this tomorrow.” She took a step towards the door, and then paused. “Do you- Can I get you anything? Have you had dinner?”

Kurt shook his head. “I’m not hungry.”

“Kurt, you should eat someth-”

“Rachel – please,” Kurt interrupted, internally pleading her to leave him alone.

“Ok,” Rachel said yet again, before leaving the room.

As soon as she was gone, Kurt dropped his head down to rest against his knees, his tears rapidly creating damp circles on the denim. This was a thousand times worse than when Liam had left. With Liam it had only been mainly a feeling of worthlessness and anger at himself, feelings that deep down he’d known would be possible to recover from, but this, what he was feeling now, was something else. This was soul-tearing loss. This was heart-breaking grief. He’d said goodbye to his best friend, the man he was in love with, and his future. And he would never see Blaine again. He couldn’t see any possible recovery from this; he’d always have the scars.

Some time later he managed to heave himself to his feet and drag his battered body over to Blaine’s bed. His brain was still functioning enough to put him through the motions of stripping down to his underwear, which, had he not been so lost in a fog of pain, would have surprised him. He crawled under the covers and collapsed against the pillow with a groan.

Everything smelled of Blaine. He was surrounded by Blaine’s scent here: the familiar, comforting smell was ingrained in the pillows and clung to the sheets. It maybe should have hurt more, lying where Blaine had slept for months, but Kurt knew it was the only place he would be able to sleep.

He curled up on his side, curving a protective arm around his achingly empty chest, and rubbed his cheek against the pillow, releasing more of Blaine’s scent. The smell of him in the air and on the bedding was like a comforting embrace, a faint ghost of the warm hugs Blaine used to give him. He knew this little bit of relief was only temporary – Blaine’s scent would soon fade – but he would take whatever he could get. He was desperate.

He woke to wind whistling and howling against the window. He automatically stretched a hand out across the bed, searching for the warm body that was never far away. He opened his eyes when his fingers met nothing but cold sheets and a round metal object which he scooped up and lifted out from under the covers to examine.

A gold pocket watch. This was all he had left of Blaine now.

His eyes closed again as the pain flooded through him, making his stomach twist and his face screw up against his tears. He could see this was how every morning for the rest of his life would begin.

The same part of his brain that had enabled him to undress before bed got him up out of bed, into the bathroom, and then through to the kitchen. Rachel was there, sitting at the table and frowning worriedly into a mug of coffee. She looked up when she heard Kurt, her eyes widening in a mixture of surprise, relief, and more worry. She didn’t appear to know what to say as Kurt poured himself some coffee on auto-pilot and then sat down opposite her.

The coffee was still swirling around his cup from being stirred – Kurt watched it until it stilled. He cleared his throat.

“Blaine- Blaine went home,” he whispered roughly, sounding as though he had a head cold.

“H- Home?” Rachel asked tentatively.

Kurt wrapped a hand around his coffee mug, taking what little comfort he could from the warmth seeping into his palm. “He’s gone back to his own time,” he said stiffly, the words difficult to get out of his choked-up throat. He shifted his leg jerkily and felt Blaine’s pocket watch press against his thigh from where it rested in his pocket. Blaine.

Rachel’s face crumpled with sympathy. “Oh, Kurt,” she said softly, reaching out to rub at Kurt’s left hand where it rested on the table. He barely felt her touch. “I thought-” She hesitated. “I thought he liked it here.”

There was a question in there, one which made Kurt’s heart twist painfully, threatening to leave him curled up around the remains of his shattered heart in a ball on the floor. 

I thought he loved you?

He had to breathe deeply for a moment, trying not to think of it, before he could respond.

“He did, but he felt unnatural here and he missed his family.”

I thought he loved you.

Kurt shoved the thought aside, but it was like a latent virus and kept jumping to the surface of his mind whenever his defences were lowered. He knew exactly why Blaine had left and knew it had nothing to do with him. They’d never said the three big words to each other. He may have known for a while now that he was in love with Blaine, but he’d never told him, so what was to say Blaine hadn’t been the same? And even if Blaine hadn’t been – wasn’t – in love with him it didn’t mean he cared any less about him or that he never would love him, his feelings could just take longer to develop; they’d only known each other for a few months after all. Blaine leaving had nothing to do with their relationship; he knew this, he shouldn’t let himself think differently.

Rachel said nothing, just cradled her mug in her hands.

Tears suddenly pooled in Kurt’s eyes. He blinked against them fiercely. “I’ll never see him again,” he whispered in a choked voice.

Rachel’s face softened, her lips parting and her forehead creasing in sympathy. A small sob burst out from between Kurt’s tightly sealed lips.

Blaine.

“Oh, Kurt.”

Setting her coffee down, Rachel got up and came around the table to the chair next to Kurt’s. She sat down in it, shifting it until she was as close to Kurt as she could get. When Kurt inhaled sharply and thickly through his nose, tears now sliding down his cheeks, she put an arm around him, rubbing it and doing her best to comfort him, murmuring that it would be ok.

Body shuddering from crying, Kurt let himself collapse against her side. Her embrace brought him no comfort – she was the wrong shape, didn’t smell right, and the hand that rubbed his arm didn’t come up to caress his cheek; her body was too soft, her arms weren’t strong enough, and she didn’t press occasional kisses to his hairline. She wasn’t Blaine. Blaine was who he needed and he wasn’t here. He never would be, ever again.

Blaine.


	14. Chapter 14

_Dearest Kurt,_

_It’s hard not being able to say these words to your face. I don’t like having to write everything I want to say to you down on a piece of paper; in a way, it makes this hurt more, as it is yet another reminder that we will never be able to see each other again. Writing this makes our separation more real. I have to write this, though, Kurt. I still find myself turning to ask you what you want for dinner or taking out two cups for coffee, and I need a way to continue to share my life with you, to tell you all the stories that have me thinking of you. I need you in my life, Kurt, in any way possible._

_I’m still keeping my promise; I still look at the stars every night and think of you. I hope you do, too. Mostly, I remember all the days we spent together: The lazy mornings, the carefree afternoons, the tender nights. There weren’t enough days – I don’t feel like there could ever be enough days; I would always be wanting just one more day with you._

_I think about that a lot, one more day. I wonder if it would hurt more – hurt too much – if I could have one more day with you, or whether spending another twenty-four hours with you would be worth the extra pain. I think I would take the extra day; I’d do anything for more time with you. I would trade anything for the opportunity to spend another day with you. Even if we said nothing and spent that day sat on the couch, it would be worth it. Just to see you again would be worth it. I’d trade anything._

_Speaking of trading, I’m hoping you have the pocket watch I left for you. I have your bowtie; I keep it sitting on my nightstand where I can see it before I fall asleep and when I wake up in the morning. It still smells like home, a little. I’m hoping that by leaving it on my nightstand and trying not to handle it the scent will stay longer. I know it can’t stay forever, and it’s already beginning to fade, but I want to prolong the inevitable. It seems we were united in our thoughts when we traded the bowtie and the watch: we both wanted to give the other a physical, solid reminder of ourselves. It seems a little silly, as, really, what is a more potent and tangible reminder than our memories? But it is nice to have something corporeal to hold onto when it all seems like a vivid dream._

_I’m not all tears and wishful thinking, Kurt; there is some happiness in my life. It is wonderful being back with Wes – I missed him so. He has noticed how upset I’ve been – I had forgotten how much a caring worrywart he is – but I’ve gotten better at hiding the loss I feel for you and spending time with Wes is like it always used to be. In that aspect, it’s like I never left._

_But as lovely as it is being back with Wes again, he’s not quite filling the gap in my life that, for a while, was filled with one Miss Rachel Berry. Yes, even though we didn’t spend all that much time together and she threatened me once, I miss her. I had only just begun getting used to her ways and calling her a friend. She was torn from my life far too soon._

_As for being back with my parents again, well, my feelings on this aren’t so easy to put on paper. I was happy to see them again and it is most definitely comforting being back in my house and having dinner with my parents, but they somehow seem colder. It’s as though the time I’ve spent in the future has opened my eyes up to how they really are. They seem far more dismissive and uncaring than they used to be. Things I used to think nothing of before are now bothering me. I’m noticing how I seem to be an afterthought in their lives and it hurts. I just need to get used to the way they are again, I suppose._

_I could write on and on telling you how much I miss you and saying everything I’ve wanted to say to you since I left, but then this letter would never end. I will write to you more, though, at least once a week._

_I hope you and Rachel are both well and that you managed to finish that jacket you were working so hard on._

_All my love, always,_

_Blaine._

Lifting his pen from the paper, Blaine stared down at the letter he’d just written. It had been somewhat therapeutic to write, temporarily drawing his mind away from missing Kurt and focusing instead on communicating with him. It had been a short while of relief, and he was hoping writing these letters would be enough to keep him sane.

He scanned the letter quickly, checking for any obvious errors or anything he’d missed. Nodding his satisfaction, he set his pen aside and, after checking to make sure the ink had dried, folded up the letter. He took his time folding it up, wanting the edges to be straight and neat and for the ink not to smudge or the paper to crinkle. He’d used his finest writing paper for the letter, paper which came as part of a writing set he’d received as a gift from an aunt years ago. He was pleased to have found a use for it, even if he’d rather not need to write these letters.

With the letter now neatly folded, Blaine looked around his room, searching for a good hiding place for it. His father hadn’t come into his room in years and his mother rarely did, so there was a good chance they would never find the letter no matter where he kept it, but he didn’t want to take the risk, not with something like this.

His eyes landed on his collection of records where they were displayed on the lowest shelf of his bookcase. Without really thinking about what he was doing, he stood up and walked over to the bookcase, carrying Kurt’s letter with him. He bent down and pulled out his copy of ‘Three O’clock in the Morning’, gazed down at the cover for a moment, and then slipped the letter carefully inside the sleeve.

The record was the song he and Kurt had danced to the night of their rooftop dinner date. It was maybe more pain-inducing to hide the letter inside the sleeve of this particular record, but it seemed the perfect place to keep it – another link to Kurt. It was also an ideal hiding place in the practical sense as well: his parents would never look inside this record sleeve. They weren’t music fans.

After smoothing his hand over the cover of the record he placed it back on its spot on the shelf. He rocked back on his heels and gazed at it for a moment, looking at where it sat innocently towards the middle of a row of dozens of other records, before straightening up and turning away from it.

He abruptly felt lost. He had no idea what to do for the rest of the day. Wes was at work, his friends on the polo team were all getting together later, but one of them had recently got engaged and he didn’t feel like listening to him gush about his fiancée and how excited he was to get married; he was too heartbroken for that.

With a sigh, Blaine wandered over to his bed and sank down on it, staring blankly at the wall ahead of him. In 2014 he had wished for more hours in the day, but here he was wishing the time away, willing hours to pass until it was time for him to go look at the stars or go to bed. He felt a kind of relief when another day ended – he’d made it through another one. He thought about returning to work, but he didn’t think he could stand being back in the office. He didn’t think he had the focus or energy for work. He had tried to play the piano a couple of times, but even simply sitting on the stool was enough to make tears well up in his eyes as he remembered an enthusiastic young girl who always wanted to play duets with him and a serious teenager who practiced his scales relentlessly until they were perfect. The one time he had managed to actually play he’d only made it through a few bars of the song before he broke down crying and had to stop. He’d had a job in music and he’d walked away from it. He’d turned his back on his dream. While it hadn’t been his dream to be a music teacher, stuck as he was now with a career in law, he didn’t care about that. As long as it involved music he would be happy.

He wasn’t living anymore. He didn’t know why he’d thought returning here would be for the best. He was sacrificing living his dreams and love for one close friend, an unsupportive family he didn’t have much of a relationship with, and his own guilt at abandoning them and the time he belonged in. He wished he wasn’t so adamant about doing things in what was considered the right way and was more willing to take a risk and follow his heart.

He broke out of his miserable thoughts when he heard his mother calling him from downstairs. On a reflex reaction, he reached into his pocket for his watch to check the time. He didn’t remember where it was until his fingers encountered nothing. A dull throb of pain pulsed in his chest and he glanced over at the bowtie sitting on his nightstand. He knew it was a bit risky leaving it out on display where anyone could see it, but he didn’t care; he needed to be able to see it.

“Kurt…” he whispered.

He wondered how Kurt was coping (would cope) after he left. He hoped Rachel would take care of him. He hoped she didn’t hate him, convinced she had been right when she’d thought he was messing Kurt around and would leave him like Liam had done…

Swallowing thickly, Blaine tore his burning eyes away from the bowtie. He wasn’t like Liam; he hadn’t wanted to leave Kurt. Surely Rachel would know that?

His mother shouted on him again.

“I’ll be down in a minute, mother!” he called back.

Getting to his feet he hurried through to the bathroom to wash his face, doing his best to rinse away all of his emotions. Once he was satisfied he looked like his normal self, he headed downstairs.

He found his mother artfully arranging a floral centrepiece, tweaking the positions of various blossoms and leaves. 

“What do you think, dear?” she said, glancing up fleetingly from her work when Blaine approached her. “It’s for the ball Mrs Sullivan is hosting next month. She’s asked me to help with the decorations.”

Blaine eyed it briefly. “It looks lovely, mother.” He hesitated by the kitchen counter where she was working. Her supposed distractedness and small talk about the flowers meant only one thing: whatever she had called on him for was something important, and based on past experience, was most likely something he wouldn’t like. He wished she would skip the chit-chat and just tell him. He wasn’t in the mood for this.

His mother held two ribbon choices up next to each other and frowned at them critically. “I really need a worktable for me to do this sort of thing on. I shall have to tell your father to purchase one. It’s ridiculous that I have to do my flower arranging in the kitchen!”

Blaine hummed noncommittally. His mind was circling through various possibilities of what his mother wanted to say to him, each worse than the last. He began to feel slightly nervous.

“You should go to this ball,” she said, her brown eyes lifting to meet Blaine’s. Blaine knew what that look meant; he had no choice but to attend this ball. He held in a disgruntled sigh. He knew what was coming next.

“You should take Anna with you,” his mother continued, her gaze still holding Blaine’s. “I know she’d love to go with you.”

Blaine forced a smile. “Of course I will.” He was already wondering if he could fake illness to get out of attending. He’d been to enough of these wretched balls in the past. He hated them. All his mother’s friends commenting on how all the young ladies were desperate to dance with him and the girls themselves dropping heavy hints that he should take them out to lunch. All the while his father watched from across the room. He didn’t know if he could suffer through another one, not know that he had Kurt and had gotten a taste of a different life.

His mother nodded approvingly. “Take her out for lunch tomorrow and invite her.”

On the surface her voice was light and encouraging, but Blaine could hear the undertones stating that if he didn’t do as she said he would have a lot to answer for. He fought with the urge to scream in frustration at both himself and this world he was living in.

“I’ll go call her now,” he said, only just managing to keep a glum unenthusiastic tone out of his voice.

“Make sure you take her somewhere nice, dear,” his mother added, her attention refocused on her flowers now she was convinced her son was following her wishes, as he always did.

“I will.”

It was with a heavy sense of forbidding that Blaine called Anna and invited her out to lunch the next day. It wasn’t that he didn’t like her – she was a perfectly nice girl, if a little too easily appeased by her parents – he just wasn’t interested in her the way everyone wanted him to be. His and Anna’s parents expected him to be interested, as well, for Anna was a beautiful young woman from a well-known family; the sort of family who regularly hosted balls and parties and whose name was spoken of with high esteem. She was beautiful and came from a wealthy, respected family; he was considered to be handsome, charming, and also from a wealthy, reputable family. Everyone seemed to think they were perfect for each other. Everyone but Blaine.

He’d spent a fair amount of time with Anna over the last four years – their parents persistently encouraged them to attend parties together or go out for lunch. He’d hoped that they would become discouraged when he never showed all that much interest in her and never spent time with her without someone telling him he should, but they only became more determined. Before, whenever he hadn’t been in the mood, he’d been able to say no when his parents suggested he go out with her – they accepted his claims that he had something planned with Wes or one of his other friends. Nowadays his parents always had that almost threatening undercurrent to their voices when they tried to prod him into seeing Anna, like if he refused they would frogmarch him to her door themselves and supervise their time together to make sure he stayed and did what was expected of him. 

Even if he was heterosexual he wouldn’t want to propose to someone he was being forced to spend time with.

Because marriage was what his and Anna’s parents were wanting out of this.

It took a great deal of effort for him to get out of bed the next morning. He couldn’t have expressed in words how much he did not want to go on this lunch date. If there was one person he hadn’t missed in the slightest while he had been in the future, it was Anna, and everything she stood for. 

He practiced his warm, charming smile as he walked down the street to the restaurant where he’d agreed to meet her. He fixed it on his face and did his best to make it look natural. It took a lot of effort. When he entered the small, trendy restaurant and saw Anna sitting primly at a table near the window, his mood plummeted further still, but his smile didn’t. He was pleased about that. 

“Good afternoon, Anna,” he greeted politely when he reached the table where she sat. 

Anna spun in her chair and beamed up at him, her brown eyes lighting up. “Blaine! Hi! It’s been too long since I’ve seen you.”

She stood up to press a kiss to his cheek which he accepted with a tightened jaw. He’d been able to bear this before – the kisses to the cheek, a hand placed on his own – but now it was so much harder. Kurt had been on his mind all morning and he knew it would only get worse the longer he spent with Anna.

Kurt.

He couldn’t help but remember all the dates they’d been on together and all the meals they’d shared. Sitting down to lunch with Anna was a horrible replacement for those times.

He managed to make small talk with her as they ordered their food and waited for it to arrive. She did most of the talking, telling him about her friends and the ball she’d been helping to plan. He was able to sit and nod along to what she was saying, barely paying attention, but able to pass as interested with his neutral expression and well-timed smiles. 

It was harder when they started eating. Blaine had expected it to be easier, since food distracted them from talking too much, but Anna kept hinting he should take her to the ball, making him want to ask her less. She also kept implying they had some sort of future together as more than friends. 

He tried to keep smiling and acting normal, but it was becoming harder and harder. He wished more than anything he could tell her he wasn’t interested and that he had a boyfriend, but he couldn’t. Anna would be upset and probably repulsed if she learned he was in love with another man, and she would most definitely spread the news around as far and wide as she could. He could never trust her with any kind of secret; she was a terrible gossip.

When their plates were almost empty, Blaine realised he would have to invite her to this ball before their meal ended. Holding back a heavy sigh, he looked across the table at her.

“Anna, would you do the honour of accompanying me to Mrs Sullivan’s ball?”

“I would love to!” Anna beamed. She looked so excited, Blaine felt a little guilty for how much he was dreading the occasion. “Oh, Blaine, I can’t wait until you see my new dress!”

Blaine forced a smile and chewed his last bite of food, feeling sick. He thought of how he would have to dance with Anna at this ball, move around the floor with her in the way he’d done with Kurt in his apartment. He clutched at his stomach as a wave of nausea rolled through it. 

Anna frowned. “Are you ok?”

Seeing an easy way out, Blaine shook his head. “Stomach ache. I think I’d better go home.” He got to his feet. “I’m sorry.” He tossed some money on the table and darted out of the restaurant, leaving a stunned Anna behind.

 

~ * ~

 

Rachel was determined. Adamant that Kurt shouldn’t slip back into behaviour similar to how he’d been after Liam had left, she insisted he continue to go out with her and her friends. She kept forcing him to meet her for drinks after work and actively engaged him in the conversation while he was there, not allowing him to sit quietly and mourn. On weekends she suggested they go out for lunch or made excuses to go shopping and took Kurt with her for his opinion. Kurt was grateful that she was doing all of this; that she was trying to distract him and preventing him from becoming a depressed recluse. He didn’t want to go back to only leaving his apartment for work.

The problem with this was that he wasn’t getting the chance to properly recover from Blaine’s departure. He was kept constantly busy and was exhausted into sleep when he returned home, so he wasn’t able to sort it all out in his head or begin to move on. He was trapped in this permanent tired, obsessively busy, miserable state. He didn’t think this was any healthier than shutting himself in his room.

As he was keeping it all pent up inside him, he would regularly feel overwhelmed. This usually happened at night when his defences were lowered and his mind wasn’t occupied with anything else. Most nights he cried himself to sleep and he woke up every morning with his hand outstretched, reaching for Blaine. It was horrible, and in spite of everything Rachel was doing to help, he wasn’t coping at all. 

Whenever Rachel wasn’t keeping him distracted he was pushing himself at work, never letting himself have a free moment to let his mind relax and fill with anything but his designs. When Rachel was at work in the evenings or on weekends and he found himself home alone, he worked from home, sketching out new designs, doing research or final alterations on his laptop. It wasn’t healthy, but he had no choice if he wanted to avoid being curled up in a ball crying for weeks on end.

The only time he allowed himself to stop frantically keeping himself busy was at around 8pm every night. This was when, in keeping with his promise to Blaine, he sat by the window and looked up at the faintly glowing small number of stars he could see. He wished the stars were clearer and that there were more of them to see – he envied the sky Blaine would gaze at – but it was better than nothing.

He thought about Blaine as he looked up at the sky – but not about him leaving. He remembered their first meeting, how wide-eyed Blaine had been in his confusion, how dapper he’d been in his neat bowtie and fedora – and beautiful; he’d always been beautiful. He remembered picnic lunches in the park, the wonder in Blaine’s eyes whenever Kurt showed him something new from the modern world, waking up to ruffled curls and sleepy eyes, and delicate tunes flowing from the piano as he finished up some sketches. He only thought about the happy memories and not Blaine’s departure or anything that could have been if he had stayed. Regardless, he still found tears on his cheeks when he finally tore his gaze away from the sky and moved from the window.

Rachel had noticed he was going too far the other way. Every time when she was about to leave for the theatre she’d tell him to relax, watch a movie or some mindless reality TV, but he couldn’t. Every movie had romantic scenes that reminded him of Blaine and reality TV just couldn’t hold his attention these days.

So he worked. And when his eyes stung, his hands ached, and tiredness settled in, he worked some more. He worked until he was weighed down with exhaustion and he could barely keep his eyes open, then he would stagger through to his room and collapse onto his bed. If he was lucky, he fell asleep immediately, but most of the time his mind kept him awake long enough to torture him about Blaine. Crying eventually tired him out enough to fall asleep.

One such Saturday afternoon when Rachel was at work, Kurt was on his laptop working. He had done his best to pretend he was going to read some magazines and tidy his closet while she was gone, but he could tell she wasn’t being fooled. She’d given him a sad, resigned look before leaving the apartment and on top of everything else Kurt now felt guilty. He was making Rachel worry again and he knew she was turning down offers to go out with friends or on dates with Finn so she could spend time with him. And he wasn’t even recovering any, or allowing himself to. He was a terrible person.

Clicking off the file of design photos he’d been looking through, he opened up his email. What he liked about his email was that his inbox was constantly filling up with new messages, so he always had something to read and distract himself with. Right now he had a new message from a fellow designer, one from a company he ordered fabric from, and another from Rachel.

Surprised, he opened up the one from Rachel first. He didn’t understand why she would be sending him an email considering she was at work and had only left home about an hour ago. His breath left him in a small huff when he read her message.

_Kurt,_

_If you’re reading this email tonight I want you to get off your computer (or phone) and stop checking your emails! You better not be working just now, but if you are, stop! Stop working and go watch some TV or go to bed; you’ve been looking tired lately._

_Please go relax._

_Love you,_

_Rachel  
X_

Guilt flickered inside Kurt again, squirming uncomfortably in his stomach as he clicked out of Rachel’s email and opened the one from the fabric supplier. What Rachel was saying was all fair enough, and if over-working was his only issue then he would be much more willing to follow her advice, but if he went and tried to relax he would start thinking about Blaine and thinking about him was dangerous. If he thought about Blaine he would cry and question his eligibility for happiness. If his thoughts stayed in this state for too long he’d start thinking about what had happened to Blaine when he had returned to his own time and what his life was like in the years following. This wasn’t a good train of thought to follow; it was something he wanted to avoid thinking about.

His eyes watered and stung as he squinted at the little photos of fabric designs attached to the email. He’d been staring at either a sketchpad or bright computer screen all day; he wouldn’t be surprised if he needed glasses soon, the strain he was putting his eyes through couldn’t be healthy.

He rubbed at his right eye and slid his laptop a little closer to his body. One of the patterned fabrics would look good as a skirt.

Eyes still on the photo of the fabric and with a design taking shape behind his eyelids, he reached for a pencil, scrabbling around on the coffee table until he found one. He grabbed his sketchpad and balanced it on the keyboard of his laptop, before blindly sketching out the image he was holding in his head. He only looked down when he was finished. After examining the roughly drawn skirt for a moment, he nodded appreciatively and then noted down the name and ID number of the fabric next to it. It had been a while since a fabric had given him some inspiration; he was already pleased with his evening’s work and it wasn’t even 8pm yet.

Feeling satisfied, he went back into his inbox, intending to read the email from his colleague. His eyes landed on Rachel’s email again.

An idea began to form in his mind and this time it wasn’t a design for work, but something much different. He didn’t know how his mind had jumped to this from seeing Rachel’s email – he put it down to tiredness and how much he missed Blaine – but it was one of the best ideas he’d had in weeks.

Sitting up straighter, he clicked on the button to compose a new email. He was going to write emails to Blaine as if he was going to send them to him. Since he couldn’t actually send them, he would save them on his laptop. It was maybe a little crazy to do it, to write emails he’d never send to a man he’d never see again, but to his tired brain it seemed like a really good way to deal with his pain and let out the feelings he’d been repressing since Blaine had left. 

Setting his sketchpad aside, he stretched his hands out over the keyboard and began to type.

_Dear Blaine,_

_Some people would say this was unhealthy: writing messages to the person you deeply miss but whom you’ll never see again. As you know, I don’t care what people think, and as I don’t plan on telling anyone about these emails it doesn’t matter that I’m writing them. This is my own private way of coping with missing you and if it helps me in any way then nobody should care that I’m doing this._

_Though I wouldn’t want to cause you any extra pain, I can’t lie and say I’m coping with you being gone. Every day is hard. Every day is a struggle. I’m staying busy with work and letting Rachel take me out with her and her friends, but it’s not enough to mask the pain. No longer being able to see you every day hurts and knowing that I’ll never be able to see you ever again makes it so much more painful._

_Rachel is worrying about me – a lot. She’s doing everything she can to help, but it’s not doing much. It’s a distraction, that’s all. I appreciate what she’s doing and I hate that she’s being affected by this as well, but there’s nothing she can do to get me through this. I’ve got to get through this by myself. Even though right now it doesn’t look like there’s a recovery from this, there has to be at some point; though the thought of moving on from you hurts more than the thought of never seeing you again. I want you in my heart forever, even if it is as a painful crack._

_I really hope you made it back safely to your own time. I trust Kayleigh, I do, but I can’t help but worry something went wrong and you got hurt or ended up in the wrong year. I know there probably is a way for me to check, but I can’t look into your life. I said to myself months ago that I’d rather not know what happens in the rest of your life and my stance on that hasn’t changed. It may be selfish of me in a way, but I couldn’t bare it if your life wasn’t a happy one. It would haunt me forever._

_It must be great seeing your friends and family after being apart from them for so long. I know you had your difficulties with your parents, but I’m hoping now that you know what it’s like to miss them, you are seeing them in a whole new light. You won’t get the acceptance of who you are in your time like you had here, but I hope that one day you find the right time to come out to your parents and they accept and love you for who you are._

_I’d better end this here. It’s almost 8pm and time to go look at the stars like we promised. I have done every night since you left. You were right; it does help me feel connected to you. It’s also peaceful and almost meditative. I look forward to this time every night._

_I’ll write again soon. I’ve decided to keep this up as another way to stay connected to you. Hopefully next time I’ll have something more interesting to tell you than how much I miss you. Though I miss you a lot, Blaine; so much more than I thought I could miss a person._

_Love,_

_Kurt  
Xxx_

Finished, Kurt saved the email to his drafts folder, and then shut down his laptop. He felt a little lighter, in slightly better spirits. People may think he was crazy, but writing that email had helped; he didn’t really know how, but it had.

He stood up and stretched, his joints popping faintly. After a quick glance at the clock revealed it was just going on 8 o’clock, he headed over to the window and sat down beside it, fixing his gaze upon the night’s sky and allowing his thoughts to shift to Blaine once again. 

He was still sitting at the window when his phone rang some time later. He got to his feet stiffly, feeling a little annoyed at the interruption, like he’d just been woken from a good dream – which, he supposed he had, in a way. With the muscles in one of his legs cramping, he hobbled over to the coffee table where he’d left his phone. He scooped it up and peered down at the screen. Surprise jolted through him at the name displayed there: Kayleigh. The only reason he could think of why she’d be calling him was Blaine. The only thing keeping him calm was the knowledge that if something had gone wrong with Blaine’s travel back home, she would have told him as soon as it had happened. But maybe she’d noticed some unusual, recent sign that showed not all had gone right when Blaine had travelled. Or maybe she just wanted to chat. Kurt hoped it wasn’t the former.

“Hello?” he answered hesitantly.

“Hi, Kurt,” Kayleigh replied, sounding as nervous as he did. There was a pause. “How- How are you?”

For a moment Kurt debated about lying; just saying that he was fine so he didn’t have to discuss how he felt and how he wasn’t coping with Blaine being gone. He was reluctant to admit the truth; he hadn’t told anyone how he was really feeling since Blaine had left and Kayleigh wasn’t exactly a close friend or anything. But maybe that was a good reason why he should tell the truth. It might relieve him of some of the burden.

“I’m not great,” he said quietly. “It’s been hard since Blaine left and I haven’t been coping all that well.” He gripped his phone tighter in his slightly trembling hand. “I would do anything to trade this for a normal break-up where we could still run into each other at coffee shops. I would take that awkwardness gladly. Just being able to see him again and knowing I could talk to him again if I wanted to would make me so much happier.”

There was another pause.

“I’m really sorry it didn’t work out – Blaine staying here.” She spoke slowly, as if she were choosing her words carefully. “If it’s any consolation, sending him back home went smoothly. I can’t see how he wouldn’t have gotten back to his own time safely.”

Kurt felt no relief at this. He didn’t know if that was because he’d already known it had gone well from Kayleigh’s lack of contact, or if he was just simply too miserable to feel any positive emotion like relief.

“Thank you for helping him go home,” he said. He shifted his weight to his other foot, wishing he could end the conversation, but not wanting to be rude by doing so.

“I- I just wanted to check-in on how you were doing,” Kayleigh said apologetically. “I thought it might help if you knew it all went to plan.”

“It did help,” Kurt lied. “Thank you for letting me know.”

Another pause.

“I’ll let you go, then. Take care, Kurt.”

Kurt said goodbye and hung up. He stared at his phone for a moment, before tossing it down on the couch and then collapsing next to it.

He’d been in a better mood for a while after writing the email and doing his nightly star gaze, but that phone call had made his mood plummet again, leaving him miserable and heavy-hearted once again. It wasn’t Kayleigh’s fault – he would never blame her for the loss of his recovered enthusiasm – it was the memories her voice brought back: the call he made to her after Blaine had told him he wanted to leave, Blaine’s face as he’d walked out the apartment for the last time. It hurt. 

Drawing his knees up close to his chest, he curled in on himself and stared glumly at the wall opposite him, his thumb absently smoothing over the cover of Blaine’s pocket watch inside his pocket. He didn’t notice the time passing and it seemed like only minutes later that Rachel was letting herself into the apartment, home from the theatre. She took one look at Kurt and shook her head.

“Ok, that’s it, Kurt. I’m sorry, but I can’t sit back and watch this anymore.”

Lifting his head up off his knees, Kurt frowned at her. “What?”

“This isn’t healthy, Kurt,” she continued, crossing the room to stand in front of him. “I can’t let you go on behaving like this.”

Catching on to what Rachel was meaning, Kurt’s frown smoothed out. He couldn’t see how there was anything she could do to help.

Letting out a small huff of unhappiness, Rachel sat down next to him, her face creased with concern. “I know you were extremely close to him and I know you miss him a lot, but you can’t be miserable forever,” she said gently. “I know this must be hard, but it’s been a few weeks now and you’re not getting over him any. You can’t go on like this.”

Kurt breathed out shakily. “Rachel, I can’t- I can’t just hurry this along. I can’t suddenly get over him and be all hunky-dory again. I can’t just stop missing him and loving him.”

Rachel froze. “You love him,” she whispered.

Kurt rubbed at his forehead, a small bite of frustration snapping inside him. “Was it not obvious?”

She nodded sadly. “It was, but I’ve never heard you actually say it before.”

“I never told Blaine either.” Kurt bit down hard on his quivering lip as tears started to pool in his eyes.

Rachel lifted a hand and let it hover in mid-air for a moment before dropping it. Kurt was relieved she didn’t touch him; a simple comforting hand on the shoulder would be enough to make him break down.

“I- I called your dad,” Rachel said.

Kurt looked at her, not knowing how he felt about this news.

Rachel shifted nervously on the couch. “He’s really worried. He booked a flight out straight away. He’ll be here tomorrow.”

Kurt closed his eyes. “Rachel…”

"You need him, Kurt,” she said firmly. “I know you don’t like to make him worry, but you need your dad right now, you know you do.”

He heard her get up and move in the direction of the kitchen, her heels making a clacking sound against the floorboards.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

The sound of her footsteps stopped. “Anytime, Kurt.”


	15. Chapter 15

Burt arrived mid-morning the next day. Rachel insisted Kurt take the day off work so he was home when the taxi dropped his dad off. He was bracing himself for his dad to be unhappy with him since it had been so long since they had last spoken. Kurt usually made sure to call home at least once every two weeks, but that hadn’t happened since he’d learned Blaine’s story and became wrapped up in his life. It was the time of year when his dad’s shop was especially busy as well, meaning it was difficult for him to call Kurt.

Basically, he hadn’t been a very good son over the last few months.

He hadn’t got much sleep the night before, tossing and turning for hours, worrying about his dad’s visit and then waking up after only a few hours of sleep to the ache of the loss of Blaine. He was tired and emotionally-strained, feeling close to tears as he made himself a coffee that did very little to make him feel more awake. It wasn’t the best of days to see his dad and try and convince him he was doing fine, but there was nothing he could do about it.

The sound of his dad knocking on the door rang through the silent apartment and Kurt took a deep breath. He quickly checked his reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall, making sure the circles under his eyes were still covered by the make-up he’d borrowed from Rachel and that his eyes weren’t too red or watery. He plastered a smile on his face before opening the door.

“Hi, dad,” he greeted.

His dad’s gaze immediately swept up and down his body, scrutinising him for any signs of ill-health. “Hey, buddy,” he said, stepping into the apartment and refusing Kurt’s repeated offers to take his bag. “Been a while since I’ve heard from you.”

Closing the door behind him, Kurt sighed. “I know. I’m so sorry. I’ve been busy and-” He let his hand fall off the door handle and moved over to where his dad was standing. 

“That’s not really an excuse. I’m sorry.”

Burt set his bag down on the floor and leaned against the back of the couch. “You’ve been busy with this Blaine guy Rachel was telling me about.”

It was a statement, not a question, but Kurt felt he had to answer anyway. He swallowed, unsure exactly what Rachel had told him about his relationship with Blaine. “I-” he began.

Burt moved around the couch and sat down on it. “Alright, sit down and tell me everything.”

Feeling slightly thrown, Kurt joined his dad on the couch. He felt unsure and a little like he was floating in the middle of the ocean, not knowing which way to swim to reach land. 

Despite having prepared himself to tell his and Blaine’s story, now that he was being asked for everything he had no idea what to say. How did he explain to someone who had never met Blaine how he’d felt this instant connection with him? That it had felt like they were meant to meet? Kurt didn’t really believe in fate or destiny and he knew his dad didn’t either, yet here he was about to say in so many words that he felt like he and Blaine had been destined to meet. He couldn’t see how his dad would understand.

Shifting on the couch until his body was facing Burt, Kurt looked up and met his dad’s eyes. He suddenly remembered how accepting his dad had been when he’d told him he was gay and how, back then, there had been a lot about homosexuality his dad didn’t understand; but he had still been supportive and he made sure he understood. His dad wasn’t the type of person to dismiss something he said or felt, or to tell him he was being ridiculous. He would understand. Kurt mentally shook himself – lack of sleep and being so emotional was making him think ludicrously. 

He cleared his throat. “I met Blaine about four months ago outside a coffee shop I pass on my way to work…”

He spoke for a good twenty minutes, telling his dad everything that Blaine had told him about how life was like for him in the twenties, to how he and Blaine had started dating and how much, how deeply, they cared for each other. His dad listened intently, never interrupting, his expression giving nothing away. Kurt felt a sense of relief and lightening at telling all of this to his dad, finally unloading to someone in the prospect of getting some advice to get him through the pain he was in. He would have to thank Rachel again for calling his dad out here.

It was too hard for him not to cry when he spoke of Blaine leaving. He could no longer look at his dad as he described Blaine’s reasons for wanting to leave, so instead he looked across at their DVD collection where it was displayed in a shelved unit by the TV. Every now and then he lifted a hand to swipe away the tears sliding down his face. He was re-opening wounds that were still fresh by talking about this, and it was extremely painful.

Finished talking, Kurt continued to stare at the DVDs for a while, trying to get a handle on his emotions before he lost control of them completely and he spiralled into an abyss of hurt and regret. His dad remained quiet the entire time, either thinking or giving Kurt a moment to recover. When Kurt finally had his emotions in check, he turned his gaze back on his dad.

Burt looked pained, his eyes full of sympathy, sadness, and, to Kurt’s surprise, understanding. When Kurt was facing him again, he sighed deeply.

“When you were four you got a pet hamster for your birthday,” Burt began, immediately sparking up confusion in Kurt. “You loved the damn thing: you refused to leave for kindergarten until you were satisfied he had enough food and water and you kept telling me off for holding him wrong, saying I was hurting him. You insisted on the cage being in your room and you talked about him to anyone who would listen.

“A few weeks before you sixth birthday, the hamster died. Your mom and I explained to you that hamsters don’t live very long and we helped you bury him in the backyard and hold a little funeral for him, but you were still very upset. You wouldn’t let me take his cage out of your room until weeks later and you insisted on wearing black for the next week – you kept saying that was the colour people wore after someone had died. It took you months to get over the death of that hamster. When you wrote a poem about him for your fifth grade English class I realised you were someone who loved deeply; once you loved someone or something they stayed in your heart for life. That’s why you came back to Ohio for a few days after you had that big fight with Rachel; you were terrified of losing her.”

“I still remember Prince Eric,” Kurt muttered, an indistinct image in his head of a small brown and white hamster that he’d named after one of his favourite Disney princes. 

Burt nodded wisely. “You’re in love with Blaine, aren’t you?”

He wasn’t looking for an answer, didn’t need one since Kurt’s feelings had been blatantly obvious in the way he spoke of Blaine and his reaction to him leaving, but Kurt nodded anyway. Tears were shining on his cheeks again and he sniffed, wiping them away with the back of his hand.

Burt’s face was soft with his sadness and sympathy. It made Kurt cry even harder, seeing someone feeling so sorry for him.

“You’re probably never going to forget him, Kurt,” Burt continued gently. “He’s always going to have a place in your heart. I can’t tell you he’ll come back someday or you’ll find someone else and forget all about him; I won’t give you false promises for things that aren’t going to happen. I still think about your mom every day and I have Carole now.”

Kurt swallowed thickly around the lump in his throat and nodded, wiping at the tears clinging to his face again. 

“It will get easier over time, Kurt, but you can’t carry on killing yourself at work and you can’t keep on bottling everything up inside you. It’s not healthy. Talk to Rachel, call home and talk to me or Carole – we’re all happy to listen – but don’t repress memories of him, it will only make it worse. It’s going to hurt a lot at first, but over time you’ll be able to look back fondly on your memories together and be grateful for the time you got to spend with each other.”

Kurt was just letting the tears slide freely down his cheeks now, the constant stream from his eyes too much to wipe away with just his hand. His dad moved closer on the couch and placed an arm around his shoulders, holding him against his body in a way that comforted Kurt even with how much he was hurting. 

“It’s horrible that you two are in the wrong centuries and your time together was cut short, but you can’t keep living like this, buddy; it isn’t good for you. You don’t want to become ill over this.” Burt squeezed his shoulder lightly. “Talk to people. Treasure your memories with Blaine. Don’t keep it all locked up inside; it doesn’t do you any good.”

Kurt nodded again and sniffed, desperately wishing he had a tissue. He was still sticking with his decision not to tell anyone about the emails he was writing to Blaine. Although they meant he wasn’t completely bottling everything up, he didn’t think his dad would think it was a healthy way of dealing with the situation. The emails would remain something he did in private.

His dad patted him on the back before withdrawing his arm from around his shoulders. “I know exactly how you’re feeling, buddy, and it will get better – trust me.”

Kurt met his gaze, managing a small smile. “Thanks for coming out here, dad,” he said quietly.

Burt returned his smile. “I know that now you’re older you think you have to deal with everything yourself, but you can always come to me when things get tough.”

With another nod, Kurt checked the time on the kitchen clock. He’d had enough of talking about this; there was only so long he could think about Blaine before it just began to hurt too much. He also felt completely exhausted. He’d been tired before, but now he felt drained and rather like a wrung-out sponge. Unloading all those feelings and memories of Blaine had worn him out and emptied him of almost everything but pain.

“Do you want some lunch?” he asked his dad, noticing it was almost one o’clock. “I can make you a sandwich or a salad or something?”

“I have never eaten a salad for lunch and that ain’t a trend I’m going to start now,” Burt said as Kurt stood up. “I could go for a sandwich, though.”

Kurt straightened his slightly rumpled clothes. “I’ll go make that for you. Why don’t you watch some TV – see if there’s a game on or something.”

His dad said something in response, probably just his acknowledgement of what Kurt had said, but Kurt didn’t hear him. He was too busy wiping at the tears collected in the corners of his eyes and the damp tracks on his cheeks. Halfway to the kitchen he heard the TV click on behind him, canned laughter immediately ringing through the apartment, masking the slight squeak of Kurt’s boots against the floor as he jerked to a stop, his eyes having landed on his dad’s bag. The sight of it had triggered the realisation of something he should have thought of as soon as Rachel had told him his dad was coming: his dad would have to sleep in Blaine’s room.

A sharp pain flared through Kurt’s chest at the thought.

For a few short months that bedroom had been Blaine’s; it had smelled like Blaine, contained all of his clothes and possessions, been the place where he had slept and sometimes lazed around reading a book – it had been Blaine’s, but now it was about to be a guest room once more.

The room no longer smelled like Blaine – his scent had faded a while ago to be replaced by Kurt’s own – but his clothes still lay in the drawers of the cabinet and some of his piano books and sheet music were still stacked neatly on the surfaces of the furniture. But the worst part was the bed. Blaine had slept in that bed, Kurt had shared that bed with him, and if he buried his nose into the pillows he could still catch a whiff of Blaine’s comforting scent – his shampoo, his hair gel, and just Blaine. Kurt couldn’t bear the thought of anyone else being in that room, sleeping in that bed, even if that person was his dad.

Biting his lip, he stared indecisively at his dad’s bag. Nobody would approve if he gave his dad his own bed while he slept in Blaine’s and the thought of the conversation that was sure to follow such a decision wasn’t appealing. It was silly to be so against his dad sleeping in a bed that was no longer Blaine’s, but he couldn’t help it; it was just too soon. 

A shout from his dad, who had managed to find a football game to watch, jerked him from his thoughts and he moved into the kitchen to make lunch, still thinking about the situation with Blaine’s bed.

He’d slept in Blaine’s bed the first few nights after he’d left, but nobody had used the bed since then, and it still just seemed too much like Blaine’s for anyone else to sleep in. But he had no other choice: he couldn’t tell his dad to have his room, nor could he make him sleep on the couch; he would have to start facing the fact that the room was once again a guest room so his dad would be sleeping in that bed. It was probably pathetic how much that upset him.

The football game gave Kurt the excuse to stay silent while they ate lunch and his dad didn’t try and persuade him to talk. Kurt had the distinct feeling his dad was giving him some time to think and recover from their conversation that morning and he was grateful for it. While he would make an effort to catch-up on everything that had been happening back home and to fill his dad in on the latest on his work and with Rachel, right now he had a bit of time to deal with his dad’s arrival and to begin taking steps towards talking about Blaine and how he was feeling more often.

Once the dirty plates from lunch were cleared away, Kurt took his dad’s bag through to Blaine’s old room. Tears welled up in his eyes again as he set the bag down on the carpet. He hadn’t been in the room since three days after Blaine had left and, looking around, it was as if Blaine hadn’t been gone. The top left-hand drawer of the dresser was still cracked open like Blaine had decided to change his bowtie at the last minute before leaving for the music store, though really it was from when Kurt had taken the bowtie he’d slipped in Blaine’s pocket just before he left. The sheets on the bed were slightly wrinkled, like Blaine had been sitting on it reading a book, when in reality those creases were caused by Kurt trying to make the bed with his vision blurred by tears. He moved over to the bed and smoothed out those sheets now, remembering how Blaine had always made his bed neatly, the sheets pulled tight.

Without thinking about it, he picked the nearest pillow off the bed and held it to his nose, inhaling deeply. His eyes fluttered closed – it still smelled like Blaine. An idea formed in his head and he bent down and snatched up the other pillow. Hugging them close to his chest, he hurried through to his own room and switched the pillows on his bed for the ones that held Blaine’s scent. His scent would probably be gone after one night of Kurt sleeping on them, but it helped him feel better about his dad sleeping in Blaine’s old bed, so he didn’t care.

The bedding in his room and Blaine’s didn’t quite match, but it wasn’t really all that obvious that the pillows had been switched. Kurt placed the swapped pillows on the bed and then returned to the living room, feeling much less distressed. 

For the rest of his father’s stay Kurt made an effort to talk to him about things he would have once kept to himself, such as how he was feeling and any memories of Blaine that cropped up. He tried not to block any thoughts of Blaine, instead pushing on through the pain and letting himself just remember his boyfriend. This resulted in him breaking down in tears a few times, including once in the middle of making breakfast, but his dad was always there to put an arm around him and hold him until he stopped crying. Rachel stayed away from the apartment most of the time Burt was there, giving Kurt plenty of time alone with him. He was grateful for it, even if he sometimes wished she would come home and spend some time with his dad so he could get a break and be alone, though he knew it was best for him to not be alone for too long just now.

On the second night of his dad’s stay Kurt told him about the promise he and Blaine had made to look at the stars every night.

“It’s our way of staying connected even though we are ninety-one years apart,” Kurt explained, eyes on the few stars peeking through the heavy layer of clouds. He glanced fleetingly over his shoulder when his dad gave no reply. His father was watching him from the couch, wearing an unreadable expression. “It sounds silly, I know,” Kurt added, gaze fixed on the sky again. “But it really does help. I do feel close to him by sitting here, letting myself remember him, and looking upwards. I feel almost peaceful. I can only hope Blaine feels the same.”

“I’m sure he does, buddy,” Burt said softly.

Kurt swallowed around the lump in his throat. “He tried to teach me about the stars once. He pointed out all the constellations and told me their names, but I don’t remember any of it.” He tilted his head to the side, peering at a larger patch of sky revealed by the drifting clouds and trying to see a shape in the stars there. “I was a little distracted that night,” he said wistfully. A soft smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “He looked so beautiful with the stars reflected in his eyes and his cheeks pink from the cold. He looked over at me when he was explaining something and I couldn’t help but kiss him.” His fingers slipped into the pocket of his pants and closed around Blaine’s pocket watch, his thumb smoothing over the cover. He’d become so lost in the memory by this point that he’d forgotten his dad was in the room listening. “I think he knew I hadn’t really been listening, but he didn’t mind. He’d tell me it all a thousand times and not care. He knew I sometimes lost myself in the rhythm of his voice and the way he looked when he explained something. He understood.”

Kurt let his head fall back against the wall, his face still turned towards the window and his thumb still circling over the pocket watch. He was still smiling fondly at the memory of that night, at Blaine’s attempt at pretending to be offended that Kurt hadn’t been listening, the pout that had only lasted until Kurt had pressed his lips to it. The memory was so vivid in his mind he could almost see the sparkle in Blaine’s eyes, could almost feel the smooth slide of Blaine’s lips against his own, the softness of the curls at the back of his neck between his fingers.

A tear trickled down his face and he raised a hand to wipe it away, suddenly remembering where he was and that his dad was watching him. He looked round to say something to him, to apologise for crying again, and found the room empty. His dad must have discreetly left to give him some privacy.

Sending him a silent thank you, Kurt looked back out at the stars and sank back into his memories, allowing the tears to fall freely.

His dad went home the next day and for the first time in ages Kurt wished he was going back to Lima with him. He wanted to escape New York for a bit, get away from the streets and apartment teeming with memories of Blaine – but he couldn’t. He’d already booked the last of his vacation time for over Christmas and he was far too busy to ask for some additional time off – he’d only regret it when he returned to a massive pile of work.

It was with a wistful sigh that he said goodbye to his dad and saw him off in a cab to the airport. He made Kurt promise not to work too hard and to call him whenever he needed someone to talk to. Kurt had the suspicion he’d asked Rachel to keep an extra close eye on him because when she arrived home later that day she all but interrogated him on his work schedule for the next week.

When Rachel finally wandered off to take a shower, Kurt fired up his laptop and opened up a new email message:

_Dear Blaine,_

_My dad was here visiting over the last few days. Rachel called him up and told him she was worried about me and he booked a flight at once. I guess I haven’t been as good at hiding my feelings as I thought. She had noticed I’d been working a lot, but I didn’t think she’d be so concerned as to call my dad. It doesn’t matter, I’m glad he came. It was nice seeing him again, and telling him all about us helped. I feel less weighed down now._

_Having taken a day off to work to spend time with my dad, I’m now regretting that I didn’t do the same with you. I should have taken off all the time I could and spent every waking moment with you. All those hours I was at work while you sat in the apartment alone – what a waste. If I’d only known what little time we’d have together…_

_But time has always been our problem: not enough of it, not the right period of it. It’s such a horrible thing to be fighting against: time. We couldn’t have beaten it no matter what we did; we were always going to lose._

_Rachel misses you a lot, as well – or, rather, she misses coming home to a home-cooked dinner all ready for her. The times she and I get home in the evenings rarely coincide, so we usually cook for ourselves or get takeaway. It’s only occasionally when one of us isn’t either tired or starving that a proper dinner for both of us will get made. You spoiled us with all the cooking that you did._

_I was thinking about that night you tried to teach me the names of the constellations yesterday. I still don’t remember any of them. I don’t suppose it matters. You can barely see the stars here most nights – there are too many lights. I wouldn’t be able to see a night’s sky like the one online you used to teach me about the stars unless I went back to Ohio. It’s probably possible for you to see all those stars, though. You’ll have a much different view of the sky to what I have._

_What I do remember clearly about that night is the way you looked and the way I felt. I never thought it was possible for me to feel so much at once for a person. I just wish I’d been able to tell you exactly how I felt, but there’s no way I could have put it into words. I still can’t; not really. You make me feel so much, Blaine. It scared me a little at times and it hurt me because our time together was so limited, but it is the most wonderful and exhilarating feeling being in love with you and while, rationally, I know I should want the feelings to go so I can get over you and move on with my life, I never want it to end._

_I miss you, Blaine; so, so much. You’re always on my mind. I’m constantly thinking about how you are and if you’re happy. Happiness is all I ever wanted for you. I hope you have it now._

_I’ll write again before the week is over. And because I know you’d say it, too: I promise I won’t work too hard._

_Love,_  
Your Kurt  
Xxx 

 

~ * ~

 

_Dearest Kurt,_

_I have just gotten home from having lunch with the daughter of a family friend and I can’t even begin to describe how terrible it was. I knew it was never going to be pleasant, but it was such a painful experience, only getting worse the longer I stayed. I ended up leaving rather abruptly, which was not at all polite, but I could not stay there a moment longer. It was a disaster._

_Let me explain. Anna is the youngest daughter of a couple who have been friends with my parents for years. They are a wealthy, influential family who are well-respected and because of this our parents have been pushing me towards spending time with her since I met her four years ago. She’s a nice enough girl, if a little vain and superficial, but as you know, I’m not interested in the way everyone expects me to be and so spending time with her is that much harder._

_My parents have been on my case about taking her out since I returned to this time. I managed to avoid following a request by my father to take her out to lunch the day after I returned by claiming I was sick (I did look and feel it, anyway), but I couldn’t get out of it today._

_It wasn’t as if anything overly terrible happened, but it was just sitting with her and knowing what our parents were expecting out of it – and what Anna is probably expecting. I can’t keep this up, Kurt; there’s only so much longer I can get away with only going for lunch with her every once in a while. Sooner or later they’re going to be wondering why I’m not yet showing any more interest, but I couldn’t fake that interest, especially not now you’re in my life._

_I don’t know what to do, Kurt. I don’t have all that much time left to decide, either. I’m in such a mess. I don’t know why I ever thought it was a good idea to come back here._

_I wish I had someone I could talk to who could give me some advice. I could talk to Wes about it a bit, but he doesn’t know about you and I don’t know how much he can help beyond listening to me and saying a few comforting words. He already knows what’s going on to an extent, so I suppose I’ll talk to him about it more. He’s the only person I can talk freely to – other than you, of course._

_I’m thinking of you all the time, Kurt. I hope you are well. I do worry that you have reverted back to your habits of staying up late working and barely getting any sleep. I hope that isn’t the case. Please take care of yourself._

_With all my love, always,  
Blaine_

Blaine laid down his pen and sat back in his desk chair, watching the ink slowly drying on the paper. 

After taking a few deep breaths to try and calm himself down, he’d hurried home from the restaurant, walking quickly in case Anna came after him. He’d arrived home to a mercifully empty house and went directly up to his room, grabbed a sheet of writing paper, and sat down to pen a letter to Kurt. He’d been filled with the desperate, aching need to talk to Kurt and this was the closest he could get.

It did help. He felt calmer now; his heart rate and breathing had gradually returned to normal as he’d written the letter, but it didn’t completely replace actually seeing and talking to Kurt; hearing his voice and having his arms around him. The ache of no longer having that was familiar now; it took the edge off the pain a little.

He re-read what he’d just written in his letter about wanting someone to talk to. Maybe he could tell someone the whole story of his time travel so he would have someone for when it all became too much. The only person he could tell was Wes; no one else in this time knew as much about him as Wes did, and he doubted that anyone else he knew could be trusted enough. But even though Wes had been nothing but supportive, Blaine was worried about telling him. He just wasn’t sure how Wes would react to learning Blaine had time travelled.

Deciding he would worry about it later, Blaine stood up and slipped the letter into the record sleeve beside the other one. He had managed this long without talking to anyone about his troubles and writing letters to Kurt was helping, so he’d wait a little longer to see if he could cope without spilling one of his biggest secrets to someone.

Over dinner that night his parents asked him about his lunch with Anna. Ignoring the eager, acutely interested looks they were giving him, Blaine told them about it, claiming it had been a lovely meal. He skimmed over the details of his abrupt departure, before telling them he’d invited her to the upcoming ball, knowing that would sufficiently distract them from his impolite and somewhat suspicious reasons for leaving Anna at the restaurant.

He was right: his mother beamed happily and spoke of how glad she was he’d asked her, as if she hadn’t all but forced him to do it, while his father made a few pleased comments. Their reactions made Blaine dread the ball even more; he hated to think how they would be on the night of the dance and what else they might talk him into doing.

After dinner it was time to look at the stars and then before he knew it he was settling down in bed, another day passed, another day without Kurt survived. He was going to visit Wes tomorrow – a small bright spot in his bleak horizon – and he briefly wondered yet again if he should tell him about the time travelling. Too worn out from chronic lack of sleep and emotional strain, he fell asleep before he could give the issue too much thought.

Despite how quickly he fell asleep, Blaine woke up the next morning feeling distinctly unrested. He’d woken multiple times during the night to the point where he became frustrated with himself for not being able to stay asleep. He hadn’t been sleeping well since he had returned to this time, but last night had been particularly bad.

His parents were already awake and out of the house by the time he had dressed and gone downstairs. As he stood in an empty kitchen staring down at the breakfast the housemaid had just set out for him, he wondered why he’d been so bothered about abandoning his family to live in the future; he barely saw them as it was.

The last thing he felt like doing was eating, but he always felt guilty about not touching the food the housemaid put in time and effort to make, so he ate as much as he could stomach, tossing the rest in the trash. He missed making breakfast with Kurt and them sitting down to enjoy it together.

He was too early for meeting Wes, but he couldn’t stand staying in the house any longer. He pulled on his coat and hat and set off for Wes’, taking his time and walking slowly.

It was still a little odd to him, seeing the autumn-coloured leaves in the trees when the ones in the New York he’d left behind were bare. Most days it still wasn’t yet cold enough for him to see his breath, while in the time he’d left the tang of future snow had hung in the air and each breath had formed a puff of smoky cloud before him. It was an odd experience: he was re-living the time he’d spent in the future, but in another sense, he wasn’t. It wasn’t an easy concept to get his head around. 

As ironic as it was, everything here now looked a little strange to him. While the twenty-first century had been foreign to him, he must have become more accustomed to it than he’d thought. It was strange not seeing the city as built-up or the compact, streamlined cars filling the roads. The clothes people were wearing here looked conservative and almost over-the-top to him now, and people’s manners felt a little too stiff and formal. His house felt too large and lonely; he missed the cosy homeliness of Kurt’s apartment. Even the lack of technology felt strange – he’d automatically gone to research something on the internet the other day before remembering it didn’t exist yet. He didn’t know what this all meant.

He was still too early when he arrived at Wes’ house. He rang the doorbell anyway, hoping he wasn’t disturbing his friend from something else.

“You’re early,” Wes remarked when he opened the door. He stepped aside to let Blaine in.

“Sorry,” Blaine apologised as Wes closed the door and led the way through to the drawing room where papers and books were scattered across a desk. “I had to get out of the house. Did I disturb your work?”

Wes shrugged and began tidying the papers into a neat pile. “It’s fine; I was just finishing up anyway.” He straightened the stack of paper. “So, what have your parents done this time?”

Blaine blinked at him. “Sorry?”

Wes shot him a look over his shoulder. “I can tell something’s bothering you, so I assumed it was your parents again. Am I wrong?”

“Nothing’s bothering me,” Blaine protested weakly. “I’m swell.”

“Blaine.” Wes placed the last book on the stack he’d made on the desk and then turned to face his friend, giving him a disbelieving look. “How long have I known you for now? I can tell when you’re preoccupied with something. You look tired and dispirited, you’ve got that slump to your shoulders, and your smile isn’t as big as it normally is. What’s wrong?”

“I-” Blaine stared at his friend, feeling conflicted. He wanted to tell him about Kurt, but he was terrified of what his reaction would be to hearing about time travelling. He desperately wanted someone to talk to, though, even if Wes couldn’t really do anything to help.

Wes had taken a seat in one of the chairs at the desk, waiting patiently for Blaine’s response. His expression had a ‘no nonsense’ air about it, letting Blaine know he wouldn’t get away with anything but the truth. 

But he had become something of an expert in lying; he could easily fool Wes into believing some other story…

No. Wes deserved the truth. Wes was his best friend, if anyone was going to believe him, it would be him. And if he didn’t, well… he would just have to try and prove it to him, like Kurt had done with Rachel.

Blaine swallowed nervously. “It’s a long story…”

Wes nodded patiently, letting Blaine know he had the time and the willingness to listen. 

“Re- Remember how I passed out a while ago? Something happened – I didn’t just lose consciousness, I- I travelled into the future.”

Wes’ eyes widened, his face becoming a picture of stunned surprise. His expression never changed while Blaine told the story of his time in the twenty-first century, making it impossible for Blaine to tell if he believed him or not. When he got to the part about moving in with Kurt and then, gradually, falling in love with him, he found it difficult to talk around the lump in his throat and he had to pause several times to get some control over his emotions. As he told Wes about his dates with Kurt, he thought he saw Wes’ expression soften. This gave Blaine the courage to finish telling him everything, right up until the moment he’d arrived back in this time. He finished his story with a watery hiccup and wiped at his eyes with his hand.

“Why can’t you go back?”

“I know it sounds crazy, Wes, but I swear – what?” Blaine interrupted his own reflex defensive speech to stare at his friend, positive he must have misheard him.

“Why can’t you go back?” Wes repeated. The shock had all but disappeared from his expression and instead he looked thoughtful and sympathetic. “It sounds like living in that time was everything you have every dreamed of, so why don’t you go back?”

Hiccupping, Blaine dropped down heavily into the other chair behind the desk. “I don’t think I can go back. Besides not knowing how to use the magic to travel, I can’t abandon you and my family.”

“You’ve travelled twice from that one place using magic, so we know it’s possible. All you’d have to do is find someone who knows how to help you do it,” Wes said, speaking as if it were all some perfectly straightforward plan. “You said that girl who helped you knew magic because it had been passed down through her family for generations; then there must be someone in this time who can do it. We just have to find them.”

Blaine stared at him, feeling a little lost for words and like he was floundering. He hadn’t expected this kind of reaction at all. He was relieved Wes wasn’t questioning his story, but he’d never given any thought to returning to the future – he hadn’t thought it was possible – and to have Wes suggest he do it had him stunned into silence.

“As for leaving your friends and family behind,” Wes continued, sobering. “If you’re subjecting yourself to a life of misery to appease them, then they’re not worth it. Don’t sacrifice your chance at happiness for people who don’t care about how you feel.” He gave a sad little smile. “Obviously, I’d miss you tremendously, but I’d be happy knowing you were happy and I would much rather you went than stayed here.”

When Blaine said nothing and continued to look uncertain, Wes shifted forward in his chair, resting his arm on the desk. “You love Kurt, don’t you?” At Blaine’s nod, he smiled gently and said, “Then go to him. Don’t walk away from love to stay with a family who don’t love you enough to accept you for who you really are.”

Blaine swallowed again. “I thought I was doing the right thing by coming back here. I didn’t think I belonged in the future.”

“And now you realise you’ve made a mistake,” Wes said knowingly. “Blaine, I’m sure if we look into it we can fix this. I want you to be happy and to have the life you deserve. I hate seeing the way you have to live here and now I know there is a chance I can help you out of this I want to do it.”

Blaine still wasn’t sure. He’d love nothing more than to go back to Kurt, but he remembered that sense of not belonging he’d had in the future and the urge he’d felt to return to his own time. What if that happened again? This, this year he was in now, was the time he was supposed to be in, and he didn’t know if it was right for him to go back to the future.

Wes could see he was still conflicted. “Think about it, ok?”

Blaine’s head was still buzzing with all his arguments for and against it when he left Wes’ house some time later. He remained deep in thought during the walk home to his empty house. Without really paying attention to what he was doing, he went upstairs to his room and took out a sheet of writing paper and his pen. It was an instinctive response for him now to go to Kurt whenever he had a dilemma and even though Kurt could no longer give him any answers, he still had to ask him the questions weighing most heavily on his mind.

_My dear Kurt,_

_What if this is not where I’m supposed to be? What if home isn’t where I’ve returned to, but is where I’ve left?_


	16. Chapter 16

Blaine didn’t sleep that night. He kept thinking about returning to the future and whether or not it would be a good idea. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go – he would love to be with Kurt again – he was just worried that he shouldn’t go. He had felt like he was cheating and just plain wrong when he was in the future, so why would he feel any different if he were to go back? This was the time he belonged in; this was where he should stay.

Another major concern was whether he would be able to travel to the correct year. His journey into the year 2014 had been random and his return to this time had presumably been the universe righting itself. Kayleigh hadn’t known how to control what year he went to, so how would he know he was going to the year he wanted? It all looked to be too big of a risk.

But returning to the future was his shot at happiness – wasn’t that worth any amount of possible risk?

It was all so frustrating. He was in a battle between doing what was inherently right and what would bring him love and happiness. It was the hardest dilemma he’d ever faced and he wasn’t sure he was capable of making a decision.

He dragged himself out of bed once he’d heard both of his parents leave the house and slouched through to the bathroom to assess the damage from another night of no sleep. His eyes were bloodshot beneath drooping eyelids, his skin was pale and drawn, tinged with a sickly greyish color, and his hair stuck up in clumps of curls around his head. As he blinked at his reflection, he yawned, his jaw clicking as his mouth stretched wide open. He wanted nothing more than to be able to go back to bed, wipe his mind blank, and get some sleep. He always wanted that which was impossible.

Hoping to get rid of the horrible stale taste in his mouth, he brushed his teeth, and then washed his face, half hoping to see the unhealthy color from his skin disappearing down the drain. Without looking at his reflection again, he went back to his room and sat down on the bed, feeling lost. He wished he had some sort of structure in his life, a daily routine to follow so that he had something to occupy himself with. He’d never needed a distraction more than he did now, and he envied Kurt having a full-time job that kept him busy. He wished he hadn’t taken time off from working with his father, for as much as he disliked working in his father’s law firm, at least it would keep him sufficiently distracted.

Jumping to his feet, he headed for his closet. He may have no idea what to do for the rest of the day, but he couldn’t spend it sitting in his room; he’d only start thinking about everything again and drive himself crazy. He tried to think of something to do while he got dressed, but drew a blank. His friends were all at work or busy with other things, he had no errands to run, and couldn’t think of any place he could visit to waste some time. He would play the piano if the mere thought wasn’t painful or go somewhere for a coffee if the smell of the drink didn’t make tears well up in his eyes. He would have to start work again.

When he left the house a short while later, he still had no plans for the day. With no destination in mind, he let his feet carry him wherever they wanted to take him. He caught a train into the city and walked through the streets without paying any attention to where he was going. He walked in a sort of trance: half conscious of the street he was on and the buildings he was passing. He wasn’t even really thinking as he walked, his mind becoming gratefully quiet. This was why, whenever his head became too full of thoughts or he was drowning in emotions, he’d gone for a walk around the city. It always helped to clear his head and help him see things from a better angle. For some reason, his mind went almost blank as he walked the streets until, after a while, whatever it was that had been troubling him would start to return, but in a different way that made it all so much clearer, calming him down. He didn’t know how or why it worked for him, but he was glad it did. He needed a way of coping.

He’d been walking for some time when he eventually stopped, stepping off to one side of the walk to let the trickle of people on the street continue on past. Having not been paying attention to where he was going, he looked around curiously.

He was standing in front of a slightly shabby clothing store. He didn’t recognize it or the buildings on either side of it, yet looking further up and down the street, something looked familiar to him. He wondered if he’d come this way with Wes once. Something about the clothing store kept drawing his eye, though, and he moved closer to the store front, racking his brain to try and remember why this area felt familiar.

The peeling paint of the lettering spelling out an unrecognisable shop name and the unstylish clothes displayed in the window made Blaine positive he had never come here shopping. Casting his eyes further afield, he surveyed the surrounding area, taking in the small shops and residential buildings nearby. The frontage of an apartment building across the road caught his eye, a memory niggling at the back of his mind, teasing him, but not quite fleshed out enough to give him any answers. 

A man walked past him, grumbling something under his breath as he read the day’s newspaper; realisation hit Blaine like a tonne of bricks.

He spun back round to face the shabby store behind him. This was Kurt’s building. In ninety-one years’ time, this would be where Kurt lived. That was why the street looked familiar: he’d walked along it on his way back home dozens of times over the last few months. He couldn’t believe it had taken him so long to recognise where he was. Of course, the street looked completely different in the future to how it did now. Most of the shops were replaced by apartment buildings and nearly all of the current residencies were extended and refurbished. It did look really different.

A few passers-by gave him curious looks as he stood there staring at the clothing store with wide, slightly watery eyes and with his breathing fast and shallow. To them, he probably looked like he was having some sort of emotional breakdown – which, he supposed he was. He couldn’t believe he’d walked here, of all places. The route must have been so ingrained in him he’d just taken it without thinking. He was a little bit shocked by it all.

He would never have come here intentionally. If he’d know this was where his feet were taking him he would have turned around and gone another way. Coming here was opening up fresh wounds that had just begun to start a long and slow healing process. It was another reminder that he was no longer with Kurt and that Kurt did not exist in this time – heck, his building didn’t even exist yet. If Wes had been here with him he’d have been looking at the deeper meaning of this, saying Blaine had walked here because this was where his subconscious was telling him to go. Blaine didn’t think of this as some sort of sign; coming here was just a force of habit. He hadn’t been back in this time for all that long; it would be a while before he lost these old habits.

Taking a deep breath, he wrenched his gaze away from the building and continued his walk down the street, fighting with the strong urge to look back. He’d made his decision; he couldn’t keep changing his mind. Going to the future again may very well be his only chance at true love and happiness, but it wasn’t right for him to mess around with time; nobody else got the opportunity to do it, and there were people in a lot worse situations than him who deserved it more. Why should he abuse a power he’d gained by accident?

He ignored the voice in the back of his head that pointed out that there may be a reason he had this knowledge of time travel.

He paused when he reached a road intersection, debated with himself for a moment, and then took a right turn. His steps became the purposeful walk of someone with a destination in mind. He was going to visit other places in the city that were significant to his relationship with Kurt. Hopefully by doing so his half-formed plans of returning to the future would be snuffed out by the reality of seeing that Kurt and the world he lived in did not exist in this time. It wasn’t an easy thing he was making himself do and he hated that he now had to try and force Kurt further out of his life, but he had to do it. He couldn’t continue this wistful thinking of playing God. 

One place he wouldn’t visit was the coffee shop. Although it was the site of their first meeting and held many memories he couldn’t risk going back to the place where he’d time travelled; it would only tempt him more to go back. There was also the fact that the coffee shop had barely changed between now and 2014; seeing it would hardly drive home his separation from Kurt. 

First, he visited Kurt’s workplace, where they had met many times before heading off for lunch. Blaine had also dropped by on several occasions to bring Kurt a coffee or some lunch on the days he was too busy to spend the mealtime with him. It was the meeting place of many of their less-formal dates and Blaine could still hear Kurt’s surprised laugh when he looked up from his computer to see him standing in front of his desk holding a coffee and some food for him.

The building that would house Dalton Designs in the future was currently a business firm of some sort. Men in suits marched in and out, most of them carrying briefcases or a copy of the New York Times. There was not a hint of what the building was to become in the next ninety or so years. Not a trace of Kurt in the serious faces of the men working in the building or in the brass plate by the door stating the name of the business. But, despite this, a memory of Kurt still unfolded inside Blaine’s mind: His boyfriend leaning against the wall by the door, his own fedora hat perched stylishly on top of his head. Kurt had taken it from his room to wear because it was the missing piece that finished off his outfit perfectly. There had been something about seeing Kurt wearing his hat that had made Blaine’s stomach flip and bubbles of joy to inflate inside of him. Those bubbles had expanded to balloons when Kurt had looked up at his greeting, a bright smile in his face, and stepped forward to kiss him, the rim of the hat bumping gently against Blaine’s forehead when he’d leaned in closer.

Ignoring the heavy weight in his chest, Blaine stared hard at everything that was different about the building: the suited men, the shiny brass plaque, the rather plain wooden doors. He stared like he would be able to ingrain the image in his mind by looking hard enough. It wasn’t that he wanted to replace his memories of Kurt at the building with one of serious businessmen; he only wanted the image of how it was now in his head to compare with his memories of the future. He wanted it set in his mind that this was how things were now, this was reality; everything with Kurt was just a memory. 

He moved on after a few minutes, walking the short distance to the site of the café where he and Kurt had regularly eaten lunch, and then he walked a little further to the restaurant where they went for their first date. It was a restaurant even in this time, but a different one. The outside of the building looked different as well from what he remembered from the night of their date. But he’d been too busy looking at Kurt to notice much about the appearance of the restaurant, so he couldn’t be sure.

By this point he’d stopped trying to make himself accept the reality of where he was now. He was now just reminiscing about his too-short time with Kurt. He managed to confine himself to remembering fondly and nothing more, but the yearning ache for Kurt crept up inside him until, by the time he was standing at the future location of the restaurant at which he’d paid for their date for the first time, he was desperately wishing he was back in the future again.

He’d turned his back on love, independence, happiness, and the freedom to be himself for controlling, disinterested parents he rarely saw, a friend who would much rather he stayed in the future, and a time period he never felt particular right in. He must be crazy.

Without really thinking about it, he set off slowly along the street, letting his feet carry him all the way to Central Park. Once he was following one of the park’s many paths, he pulled himself from his thoughts and began to take notice of the surroundings. Like the last time he’d been in the park, autumn colours were in full force, the trees an explosion of oranges and reds, the grass and paths covered in a carpet of rustic leaves. People sitting on the benches were curled up inside their coats to ward off the cold and the leaves skittered along the path in front of them, carried along by icy gusts of wind. The chill on Blaine’s left side, where Kurt normally walked, was suddenly much more noticeable. He stuffed his hands in his coat pockets to stop himself from reaching for the hand of a person who wasn’t there.

He reached his destination after a short walk: a small outcropping overlooking a large area of the park and the city beyond. It was Kurt’s favourite spot in the city. He’d never intended on coming here when he’d been mentally listing places of significance, but somehow it seemed like he was always going to come here. It was a special place to Kurt, somewhere he went to escape, and he’d shared it with Blaine. This spot had held a place in Blaine’s heart since the day Kurt had taken him here.

Though the ground was damp from the drizzly rain that had fallen last night, Blaine lowered himself to the ground and sat facing out over the park with his legs crossed in front of him. A damp chill seeped into his pants and tiny, gritty stones scratched at his hands when he rested them on the rock he was sitting on. He brushed the grit from his palms and rested his hands on his knees instead, not taking his eyes off the view in front of him.

The city skyline was different and there was no warm body next to his own, but Blaine still felt as though he could turn his head and see Kurt sitting next to him. The letters and looking up at the stars did make him feel connected to Kurt, but they didn’t make him feel as Kurt could actually be there with him. If he closed his eyes he could almost feel Kurt’s hand resting on his knee and smell his scent in the air. He could see why Kurt had loved this spot so much. All his problems and worries felt distant, like he’d left them behind in the gridlock of streets and cluster of buildings he could see beyond the trees. 

While the city changed drastically over the years, the park was almost timeless. Here, it felt like Blaine could be in almost any time, like if he thought hard enough he could look round and see Kurt smiling at him. It was sugar-coated poison: sweet and nice on the surface, but painfully wrong when you dug deeper.

He wanted to go back. He’d made a mistake by returning and he wanted to go back to the future – if it was possible. He couldn’t spend the rest of his days writing letters and visiting the park whenever he missed Kurt too much; he couldn’t keep wistfully looking up at the stars each night. He couldn’t live like this.

Some people might think he was being pathetic, that he would get over feeling like this and, after a while, he would no longer miss Kurt as much and he’d be able to move on with his life. It wasn’t like that. Blaine didn’t know if he was just the kind of person who once they fell in love that was it for them, or if there was some truth behind the stories of soulmates and destiny, but he honestly couldn’t see himself loving someone other than Kurt. Kurt was it for him; he knew it deep down in his heart, in his very soul. Kurt was his everything. He understood him completely, he knew when he needed space or a laugh, how far he could push him, and when he was feeling down and needed a hot chocolate and a warm embrace. Kurt made him feel complete, like he’d always held a little piece of him and he could only be whole when they were together. Kurt was his best friend, his other half – and he’d walked away from him.

Tears stinging in his eyes, Blaine buried his face in his hands. What had he done? He couldn’t believe he’d been so stupid and misguided to think he would be better off being in his own time. He’d hated his life so much here, yet he’d still come back, foolishly thinking it would be better. Why did he always have to do what was considered right? Hiding that he was a homosexual, following his father into a career in law, attending ghastly balls and dances with Anna, returning to his own time… If the world didn’t have rebellious people, those who strayed from the norm, then how would the world progress? How would inventions be created or new concepts be discovered? Why shouldn’t he be one of those people? Why couldn’t he set off down his own path rather than follow the one he was being nudged along? He’d always been scared of going against the wishes of his parents or doing something that made people whisper about him behind his back, but he shouldn’t care about that. He only got one life, so why shouldn’t he live it the way he wanted to? Why shouldn’t he be happy? And he had another reason for doing this now: love. 

Scrambling to his feet, Blaine brushed off the seat of his pants and scurried down the path towards the nearest park exit. He was going to see Wes to accept his offer to help him go back to the future and Kurt.

 

~ * ~

Keeping his word, Kurt made a point to regularly call his dad to have a chat and let him know how he was doing. Some days they didn’t have a whole lot to say to each other – work had been the same thing for both of them and nothing exciting had happened – but Kurt did feel better hearing his dad’s voice and he knew his dad was happy to talk to him for as long as he wanted even though they were saying the same mundane things. Kurt was still hurting and he still missed Blaine terribly, but he didn’t feel like he was drowning in loss now that he was talking to his dad more, a definite improvement. 

He also talked to Rachel about how he was feeling at least twice a day. Following orders no doubt given to her by his dad, Rachel asked him how he was every morning and evening, and wouldn’t accept a one-word answer. Kurt had expected this to start getting on his nerves, but it never did; her support helped him and he was truly grateful for it.

Rachel was also keeping a close eye on how much he was working: turning down invites to nights out to stay at home and making sure he wasn’t spending the evening hunched over his laptop or a pile of sketches. In the evenings Kurt now had to fight the urge to work, instead trying to relax by watching TV or reading a magazine. He found it hard – working was an easy and effective way of distracting himself and passing the time – but he understood why his dad and Rachel were so concerned with him overworking. He knew it wasn’t healthy.

Something that did make Kurt laugh to himself was how Rachel was going out of her way to eat meals at home with him, clearly concerned about his diet. There was absolutely no need for her to worry if he was eating enough; cooking and eating were excellent sources of distraction and comfort.

It was after one of these shared meals – a stir fry dinner which Rachel not-so-subtly watched him eat – that Rachel noticed Kurt had Blaine’s pocket watch.

They were sitting in the living room together, a reality show of sorts showing on the TV which Rachel was watching. Kurt wasn’t paying attention to the TV; he was staring unseeingly at the screen, his mind sifting numbly though everything that had happened over the last few months. At some point he’d taken Blaine’s pocket watch out and began circling his thumb around the cover. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t notice the show go to an advert break, turning Rachel’s attention on to him, nor did he hear Rachel saying his name until she’d leaned forward and snapped his fingers in front of him.

“Kurt!”

Giving a little start, Kurt looked over at his friend. He blinked at her rapidly as the memories he’d been re-living grew smaller inside his head. He met her expectant look with one of mild confusion.

“Sorry – what?”

Rachel let out a small exasperated sigh. “I was wondering what it was you are fiddling with; it looks like a pocket watch.”

Kurt glanced down at the watch in his hand, the one he hadn’t realised he was holding. He carried it around with him all the time and absently fiddling with it had become something of a habit for him, like one would bite their nails. He wasn’t aware he was doing it most of the time, but his boss had told him off for doing it during a meeting earlier that week, saying it was driving her crazy. He’d tried to leave it alone in his pocket, but that had only lasted a few hours. It didn’t feel right not slipping it in his pocket every day, either. 

He supposed it had started out as a comfort thing: holding something of Blaine’s to remind him that Blaine had existed and those last few months had been real, not a fantasy. Somewhere along the line, taking it out of his pocket and running his thumb over the engraved cover had become habit.

“It is a pocket watch,” Kurt said, smoothing his thumb over the cover once more. He hoped she wasn’t about to tell him his fidgeting was annoying her as well; it was hard enough to stop himself from doing it during meetings at work, never mind in his own home.

Rachel’s forehead creased in sadness. “Oh, Kurt. Buying yourself a pocket watch because Blaine had one isn’t going to help you get over him.”

Kurt stared at her. “What?” He shook his head. “No, this is Blaine’s one; he left it for me.”

Now Rachel was the one who looked confused, worry only just staying out of her expression. Kurt could tell she was verging on worrying about his mental health. “Why would he leave you his watch?”

“A reminder,” Kurt replied, lowering his gaze to the gold watch in his hand. “Something solid and physical to have for the bad days when it all feels like a wistful fantasy.” He flicked the cover open and smoothed his thumb over the face of the watch, his skin catching on the tiny scratch. “I put the first bowtie I bought him in his pocket just before he left, so he has something, too.”

Rachel was silent for a moment. 

“Do you- Do you think the bowtie survived the journey back?” she asked hesitantly.

Kurt flipped the cover closed. “I sure hope so.”

Rachel was hesitating again; Kurt could almost feel it in the air. He didn’t have to look up to know the way she was watching him with curious, uncertain eyes or how her mouth was opening and closing as she internally debated on whether to speak or not. He also knew that she would end up asking whatever was on her mind; Rachel rarely held back when it came to talking to people and getting to know the information she wanted. Normally Kurt would save her the struggle and ask her straight up what she wanted to know, but today he was in no hurry to return to their silent watching of TV, and he was grateful for the small distraction she was providing. So, he sat in silence and let her argue it out with herself and get round to asking him in her own time.

She finally spoke up a few minutes later.

“What… exactly happened with Blaine?” she asked slowly, her tone of voice reminiscent of someone tiptoeing around a sleeping lion. When Kurt’s gaze shot up to meet her’s, she lost a little of her confidence, fumbling over her words for a moment, before shaking her hair back out of her face, and sitting up straighter. “I know you said he felt like he didn’t belong here, but did he just announce that and say he was leaving, or…?”

Kurt stared at her, unblinking, and with his expression hardening, making her recoil slightly. He didn’t particularly want to tell her the whole story, to relive it all again, but he’d promised his dad he’d open up more about everything, and he knew Rachel would keep asking and wondering until he told her. Maybe it would even help; maybe it would relieve him of some of the heavy pain that had been weighing him down since Blaine left.

Swallowing thickly, Kurt closed his fingers around the pocket watch, holding it tightly in his hand.

“I knew he wanted to go home. Before he told me, I knew he wasn’t happy here and was thinking of home. I knew it from the night we went to see your show,” Kurt said in an uneven voice that was choked-up with the tears now blurring his vision. “I waited for him to say he wanted to return, but he never did. He didn’t want to hurt me. Eventually I had to ask him about it and he admitted how he was feeling.” He stopped there and used the hand not clutching the watch to wipe away the tears clinging to his face.

Rachel’s expression was an odd mix of curiosity and deep sympathy. She was clearly bursting with questions and was reluctantly holding herself back from asking them given Kurt’s distress. She gave him about half a minute to recover and regain some control over his emotions.

“But what made him suddenly change his mind about staying?” she asked. “I thought he was happy here. He had everything going for him: a job, school, freedom, you.” She nodded her head at Kurt, who sniffed and passed a hand under his red nose. “What made him suddenly want to leave that?” Her eyes widened with realisation. “Was it something to do with me?”

In spite of everything, Kurt rolled his eyes. His fond, exasperated reactions to her egotistical, diva ways hadn’t been obliterated by his pain.

Thinking about Rachel’s other questions, he remembered Blaine’s behaviour at the bar on the night they’d gone to Rachel’s show. He remembered his overwhelmed expression and how he’d mentioned feeling slightly claustrophobic, his nervous hesitance over his drink, and the way he’d dashed outside half an hour after they’d arrived.

“I think it just hit him all of a sudden how different he was to everyone in this time,” Kurt said slowly, the image of Blaine’s panicked face as he’d stood outside the bar clear in his mind. “It had probably been building up for weeks and that night at the bar had been the final tipping point for him.” Another thought surfaced in his mind and he let out a muffled sob as more tears welled up in his eyes. Guilt immediately followed the thought, rising up inside him until it burned in his throat. He hung his head in shame, the tiny catch on the side of the watch digging into his palm.

“A tiny, selfish part of me wished he would fight through that feeling for me; that he cared about me too much to leave.” A series of guttural sobs ripped their way out of his chest. “I ju-just- I only want what makes him ha-happy,” Kurt sobbed, wiping his face with the sleeve of his shirt. “Even if that breaks my heart.”

He collapsed against the back of the couch, curled in on himself, and lost himself to painful, heart-wrenching sobbing. He hadn’t let himself cry like this in front of Rachel since the day Blaine had left, but it was all too much to keep inside of him. He couldn’t stay in control when he remembered Blaine’s departure and the hole in his broken heart he’d left behind.

He didn’t hear Rachel move, but suddenly she was next to him on the couch, rubbing soothingly at his back and murmuring softly. He couldn’t make out what she was saying through his distress, but her tone was comforting and eventually he quietened, the flare-up of his pain and loss calming. Sniffing, he scrubbed at his face with his hand and sleeve, drying off the tears. He sat up straight again and managed to give Rachel a small, watery smile of gratitude.

“Thank you,” he said roughly. “Sometimes it just gets too much and I just-” He gestured vaguely, waving his hand helplessly. “I really miss him.”

Rachel rubbed at his back again. “He was your everything, wasn’t he?”

Nodding, Kurt wiped away a stray tear that had escaped from his right eye. “I could see my future with him. I could see myself spending the rest of my life with him.” He swallowed the lump of impending tears that rose in his throat. “I wanted that with him. I wanted him to stay in my life – for good.” A sharp pain wrenched inside of him, tugging harshly on everything from his stomach to his heart.

“He was your soulmate,” Rachel whispered, her voice sad.

Kurt nodded in agreement. He’d never really considered himself a believer in that sort of thing, but the term fit in a way no other word could. 

“Soulmates always have a way of finding each other again,” Rachel said mysteriously.

Sniffing, Kurt looked at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Rachel had an odd look on her face. She looked strangely torn, like she was having an internal debate with herself about something. Her forehead was pinched into a conflicted frown and she was fiddling with her nails in the way she always did when she was uncertain about something. She shrugged, avoiding Kurt’s gaze in favour of looking at her nails.

Kurt stared at her. “Are you talking about us meeting in another life? Because I didn’t think you believed in that kind of thing.”

“There are a lot of things I didn’t used to believe in.” She finally lifted her gaze to Kurt’s face, her expression now more guarded. “I was proved wrong about time travel, wasn’t I?”

Kurt didn’t know what to think. He had no idea what Rachel was getting at and he was far too worn out and emotionally drained to try and make sense of it. He sometimes struggled to understand her on the best of days, never mind when he’d had a long day at work followed by a cry over Blaine.

“Well I really hate that our meeting in this life was so short. We got a pretty shit deal being from different centuries,” Kurt said, a hint of bitterness creeping into his tone.

Patting his back one final time and getting to her feet, Rachel gave him an oddly restrained smile. “Don’t label this as shit when you’ve hardly experienced any of it. Time can change everything.”

And with that she grabbed her purse from the coffee table and then strode off to her room, leaving Kurt staring after her, feeling even more tired and confused.


	17. Chapter 17

After talking with Wes, Blaine walked home feeling more positive than he had been since he’d left the future. He had a purpose now; he was no longer wallowing around lost and pessimistic. He and Wes were going to try and get him back to the year 2014 and to Kurt.

They’d spent the last few hours discussing their plan of action. Blaine had told Wes all about Kayleigh and how exactly she had sent him back to this time, trying not to leave out any details, no matter how small and insignificant they seemed, just in case they were crucial to enabling his return. Once Wes was up to knowledge with how the process of time travelling worked, they discussed how they would go about getting Blaine to travel again. Unlike when Blaine was researching the first time, they didn’t have the luxury of computers and the internet, so their only options were really the library and word of mouth. They mutually decided to save the latter for use as a last resort, wanting to avoid any tricky questions and the risk of revealing too much to the wrong person.

They met up in the nearest library the following day, arriving bright and early – not long after opening time – with the intention of spending the majority of the day there. Wes had taken the week off work to help him and Blaine was very touched and grateful; he was sure the help would be much needed. As soon as they were through the doors Wes made a beeline for the local history section, while Blaine hurried over to the shelves where they kept books on myths and fables. The library was familiar to both of them from the many hours they had spent in it over the course of their respective college degrees, using it as somewhere to do research and study on the days they weren’t on campus with access to the university library. This gave them the major advantage of knowing where all the various genres of books were kept so they didn’t have to ask any potentially nosy librarians for help.

Blaine ran his fingers across the spines of the books on the shelf in front of him, reading the titles and deciding whether they would be of any use to him. He plucked any promising books from the shelf and had a quick flick through them, judging their potential usefulness from the glimpses of pages he saw and any contents list or indexes. He kept a hold of the books he liked the look of and when his arms were full he staggered over to the nearest row of tables, dumping his pile of books on top of a vacant one, and sitting down.

He was thumbing through the pages of the top book in the stack, searching for the relevant section when Wes joined him with his own pile of books. He took the chair opposite him, pushing the little lamp on the desk out of the way, and set his books down with a thud.

“I’m not sure if any of these will be of any use,” Wes whispered, pulling one large hardback book towards him and flipping the cover open. “But there’s plenty more over there I want to look through. There’s bound to be something in at least one of them.”

They remained silent after that, the only noise the turning of pages and occasional thump when one of them set the book they had been looking at aside and picked up another one. Wes was the first to get up and refresh his pile, returning after about five minutes with another heavy armful of books. Blaine’s stack took longer to go through, requiring much more reading of full sections of text as he sifted through the masses of fairy tales, myths, and fantasy stories that were discussed in each one.

The day soon melted away into an endless blur of pages and words. Blaine lost track of how many hours he sat at that desk, going through book after book, only noticing how long he must have been sitting hunched over the table when he got up to get some new ones. His back and neck ached whenever he stood up, and he had to take a moment to stretch before he could sit down again.

Wes took a break at some point during the afternoon, leaving for a short while to get some lunch. He returned with a small bag of food for Blaine, in spite of his insistence that he wasn’t hungry and didn’t need anything. Wes didn’t look too happy about this, but Blaine was determined to press on and keep searching. This determination must have shown on his face, for after a few attempts at persuasion, Wes gave up and left the food on the table, lapsing back into silence as he opened yet another book.

It was sometime late in the afternoon, or perhaps early evening, that Blaine began to get a little antsy. They had gone through dozens of books, yet aside from a handful of only mildly useful pieces of information, they had nothing. They had no idea of where in the city people may be practicing magic, not a clue who may be using magic in this time, and they hadn’t found a single clue pointing them towards finding any of this information. He had thought researching this would be much easier than it had been when he had been trying to learn about it for the first time. He knew exactly what he was looking for, but it was looking as though the information they needed wasn’t there; either that or it was concealing itself very well. This wasn’t turning out to be as straightforward as he had thought it would be.

All in all Blaine was feeling a bit dispirited when they left the library at closing time. Wes was still surprisingly upbeat, not appearing at all downtrodden by how unsuccessful their day of researching had been.

“We know what we are looking for,” Wes said as they walked home. “We know exactly what we need to find, so we’ll get it eventually. Today just wasn’t our day, that’s all.”

Blaine pushed his hands deeper into the pockets of his coat and said nothing. Though he wouldn’t admit it out loud, he did really need Wes’ encouragement throughout this. He doubted he would be able to get through this researching process otherwise. The thought of seeing Kurt again and being back in his arms should have been enough to fuel his motivation and make him determined to relentlessly search for his way back, and this was true to an extent, but there was still a lingering voice in the back of his head telling him he shouldn’t leave his family and reminding him that it was wrong to mess with time. The voice was faint, but it was still loud enough to nag at his conscious, and he sincerely hoped it wouldn’t get any louder or more insistent. He was doing the right thing, he was sure of it. He had made a big mistake choosing to come back here, and he knew he’d never be happy if he stayed because he didn’t truly belong in this time. It was unfortunate that he’d had to come back to this time to realize this, but it couldn’t have been any other way. If he’d never come back to his own time he would have always been wondering if he was doing the right thing by staying in the future. By returning now, he knew for certain that he belonged in the twenty-first century. Perhaps a piece of him had always been with Kurt, and he was meant to travel those ninety-one years into the future to be with him. That’s what it felt like.

Wes kept up his words of encouragement as they went back to the library each day, spending hours in there and slowly dwindling their list of books to search through. His unrelenting optimism kept Blaine’s determination to research high, and he always seemed to know when Blaine was starting to feel the prickle of frustration, saying something positive and motivating to keep him going. The worrying thought that they may never be able to find a way to send Blaine into the future kept wriggling its way into the conscious part of Blaine’s mind, but he always managed to stamp it out before it planted root there. He wasn’t going to give up yet.

With a huff of effort, Blaine let himself in the front door of his house, struggling with the door and his keys around the armful of books he was carrying. He made a small noise of relief when he was inside and the door was finally closed behind him. Adjusting his grip on the books, he headed for the drawing room, intending to spend the hour or so until his parents would arrive home reading the books he’d borrowed from the library.

Several days of finding next to nothing in all the research he and Wes had done was making him feel a little panicky, in spite of Wes’ soothing encouragement that they still had a lot of books to go through and they would find something soon. As closing time had drawn closer today in the library, Blaine had made the decision to borrow a few books he had yet to look through to try and speed things up. Wes hadn’t been all too approving of this idea, saying he needed to let himself have a break in the evenings, as all the reading couldn’t be good for his eyes and sitting hunched over a desk all day and all night wasn’t healthy. Tiredness, strain, and frustration had almost made Blaine snap back that if they were going to find something soon then maybe he wouldn’t be reading all night. He caught himself at the last minute, feeling guilty for nearly taking his stress and worries out on his friend who was doing his best to help. 

He was almost at the entrance to the drawing room when his father’s voice called his name, startling him so much that he almost dropped all of his books.

“Blaine? Is that you, son?”

Clutching his books to his chest over his racing heart, Blaine leaned against the hallway wall to recover from his shock. He’d thought he was home alone.

“It’s me, father,” he called back.

“Can you join us in the living room for a moment?” his father asked.

A sliver of dread slipped into Blaine’s stomach. He couldn’t have explained the sudden sense of impending doom he was experiencing or why his heart was racing with something other than shock. He didn’t like the way his father sounded or the fact that both his parents were home earlier than they’d been in years and that they were, apparently, waiting for him.

Tightening his hold on the books, he made his way through to the living room, dreading what he might find there.

His parents were seated on the armchairs either side of the fireplace, facing the couch and the doorway through which Blaine entered the room. His father frowned at him as he moved hesitantly towards the couch, gripping his books tightly.

“Where did you get those?” his father asked, nodding at the books.

Blaine glanced down at them, as if unsure of what they were and where they’d come from. His father habitually made him nervous and uncertain like this, causing him to constantly question everything and worry that what he was about to say or do was wrong even though he knew it wasn’t.

“I got them from the library,” he said, his voice a little hoarse from lack of use and a dryness in his throat that plagued him whenever his father looked at him like that: disapproving and calculating. “I borrowed them when I was there with Wes today.”

His father’s frown deepened, the lines on his forehead carving further into the skin. “Is that how you spent your day? Sitting in the library with Wes?”

Normally, Blaine wouldn’t ever respond to a comment like this, he would just sit in silence until his father spoke again, but for some reason a burst of courage filled him and he nodded.

“Yes,” he said, already anticipating the flash of annoyance in his father’s eyes and the lecture on what he should have been doing instead.

It never came. Instead, his father leaned back in his chair, his face becoming partially obscured by shadow. He exchanged a look with his wife.

“Why don’t you take a seat, Blaine,” his mother suggested in deceptively pleasant tones that had dread shooting through Blaine’s body again, seizing up his muscles. “Your father and I have something for you.”

Knowing this couldn’t be anything good, and with his sense of foreboding increasing exponentially, Blaine perched on the edge of the couch. He continued to clutch his books protectively to his chest, until he noticed his father staring at him pointedly. He set them down beside him.

“Your father and I have been talking and we both expressed a little concern with where your life is currently,” his mother began, her face serious.

A strangling chill gripped Blaine; nothing good ever started with the words ‘your father and I have been talking’. His panic was so great that his brain was scrambled, leaving him unable to think properly and try and figure out what his mother meant.

His father sat forward in his chair again, linking his fingers together on top of his legs. “You are on the path to having a good, admirable career, Blaine, and you are a fairly well-rounded young man with your polo and attendance at benefit balls and dances, but there’s still something worrying us.” He caught Blaine’s eye and Blaine had the sudden image of a large rock suspended over his head on a thin, fragile piece of rope. He waited for the rope to snap.

“You’re twenty-two years old, Blaine and you’re not showing any signs of proposing marriage to a woman.”

The rope snapped and the boulder fell, crushing all the air out of his lungs, leaving his ears ringing strangely and his heart frozen in his chest. Fear flooded his brain and made him tense up, his hand curling into a fist around the edge of the couch cushion. He wanted to bolt from the room, to run out of the house and away to where he’d never have to face this conversation again, but he was frozen in his seat, held there by shock and fear of what was to come.

“Every man your age is engaged, planning an engagement, or is already married,” his mother said, a hint of concern creeping into her voice. “Most of your friends are either engaged or married. Soon, people will start to wonder why you aren’t as well. They’ll think there’s something wrong with you.”

His father shifted in his chair, his right hand moving to rest by his hip. “We wondered ourselves if there may be some kind of problem, but then we remembered how you are a bit of a perfectionist and that you are stubborn when it comes to asking for help, particularly financial help.”

Blaine couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything. An inkling of what was coming hovered just beyond the edge of conscious thought, but he was too panicked to think of what this all meant.

In contrast to the rising dread he was experiencing, his parents looked unusually animated, anticipation in both of their expressions.

“Which is why,” his father continued, slipping a hand inside the pocket of his jacket and taking out something small, “we are giving you this.”

He held out his hand, opening out his fingers to display the small, velvet-covered box sitting there. Panic and fear wiped every remaining thought from Blaine’s head – no.

Using his other hand, his father lifted the lid on the box to reveal the delicately-formed diamond ring inside – an engagement ring.

“We want you to have this ring to propose to Anna with.”

Blaine gaped across at his father speechlessly. Even if he could have spoken he didn’t know what he would have said. He felt as if his insides had dropped out of him and he was sure they must be laying in a heap under the couch. The ringing was back in his ears again, a similar sensation to what he’d experienced immediately after he’d arrived back from the future.

But it wasn’t just shock and horror he was experiencing; pure terror was flooding through him as well. His father hadn’t been requesting that he propose to Anna – no, he was telling him to. There had been the slightest hint of threat in his father’s tone, an undercurrent implying there would be consequences if Blaine didn’t do as he said. Blaine had never disobeyed his parents in his life, had never gone against their wishes, he’d always been too scared to do so – but he couldn’t do this. He couldn’t propose to Anna, couldn’t marry someone he didn’t even really like, couldn’t spend the rest of his life miserable and pretending to be heterosexual. No, he couldn’t do it. 

“You don’t have to worry about paying us back for it,” his mother said, misinterpreting his shocked silence. “Think of it as a gift.”

His father brandished the ring at Blaine again and Blaine stood up to take it from him, hardly aware of what he was doing.

“I think I’ll go upstairs and- and think,” Blaine stammered vaguely, stumbling back towards the couch. He scooped up his books, the ring box clunky and awkward in his hand.

His parents nodded in acceptance. “I’m sure you want to give a lot of thought to how you’re going to propose,” his mother said, sounding slightly excited. “You’ll want to plan it out.”

After nodding his head absently, Blaine hurried from the room, scurrying up the stairs and into his bedroom where he closed the door behind him. His knees shook and he wobbled on the spot, almost toppling to the ground. He couldn’t believe this was happening.

He paced across the room, dropping the ring box on the dresser on the way past as though it had burned his hand. He felt like he was on the verge of some kind of hysterical mental breakdown. His breathing was fast, harsh, and shallow; his heart was racing in his chest. Thoughts whirled around his head in a tornado; his head was spinning. He paced the length of the room, backwards and forwards, to let out all the overflowing emotions, trying to work out the panic and the fear. 

He was planning to leave here, that was true, but his biggest concern was that he couldn’t manage to leave this time, or that he took a long time to do so. He and Wes had done dozens of hours of research now, but they hadn’t found anything that would help him return to the future yet. How long could he put off proposing before his parents started to get suspicious? There had been a couple of times in the past when he’d worried it may have been dawning on them that something was different about him, but they had never confronted him about it. He had a feeling it would be different this time.

Tugging at his bowtie in frustration, he spun around near his window and strode back up towards his closet, retracing the footsteps he’d been following for the last few minutes. 

He yanked at his bowtie again and it came undone. He let his hands fall back to his sides and stopped in the middle of pacing, biting back his scream of frustration at the world.

He had no idea what to do.

Striding over to his desk, he snatched up a piece of paper, grabbed his pen, and dropped down into the chair to write.

_Dearest Kurt,_

_I’m in a bit of trouble here and I wish I had your advice and support to help me through it. I’m at a complete loss at what to do. I’m waging an internal war between doing what I want, what I know will make me happy, and doing what my parents and everyone else in this time expects me to do. I hate disappointing my parents – I hate disappointing anyone – but I will most certainly do that if I follow my heart._

_My parents just gifted me with an engagement ring and requested I propose to Anna with it. I was so shocked, Kurt – I still am – and I’m panicking. I have no idea what to do. I desperately want to return to your time and spend the rest of my life with you, but if I do that I will be letting my parents and Anna down; for I know she is expecting and waiting for me to propose to her, in spite of our complete lack of chemistry._

_To be perfectly honest, letting my parents and Anna down doesn’t bother me too much. Now that I’m calming down and thinking about this, the thought of marrying Anna and tying myself to her and an identity that isn’t me for the rest of my life makes me so miserable and dead-feeling that it washes away my guilt. My only real worry is that it is impossible for me to return to your time or that it takes too long for Wes and I to find my way back. I don’t know how long I can hold this proposal off for before my parents start asking questions._

_I’ve only just realised: I’m getting a little ahead of myself. I’ve decided I want to return to your time, Kurt. I can’t stand living here and it’s only going to get worse. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life hiding and being utterly miserable just to please my parents. I know my parents were a big part of the reason why I came back here, but I see now that they weren’t really worth it. I don’t feel right in this time; I was wrong. I belong in your time, not this one. I did need to come back here to understand this, and in a strange way, I’m glad I did. I only hope I can return to you, and can do so before my parents start asking why I haven’t proposed yet._

_I’m not going to give up on returning to you, Kurt. I’m just going to have to do whatever I have must to avoid this proposal and find my way back to you. I’ll double my efforts in researching. Maybe it’s worth trying outside of the library now as well and asking people for help – discreetly, of course._

_I feel a lot calmer now, so I’m going to read through these books I borrowed from the library, then look at our stars. I’m not going to let my parents chain me to a life of misery. I’ll be back in your arms soon enough, I promise._

_Thinking of you._

_All my love,  
Your Blaine._

 

~ * ~

 

_Blaine,_

_Rachel gave me something to think about today._

_I had a bit of a breakdown – long, busy day at work and missing you just got too much – and I told her of how I’d hoped to spend the rest of my life with you (I want to, so badly), and she called us soulmates._

_Now you know I’m quite a logical person who doesn’t have any superstitions or anything – if it had been anyone but you telling me they’d travelled through time I wouldn’t have believed them. Destiny and fate have always fallen into the same category as superstition for me. It’s nice to think you know when bad luck is coming, to think you are prepared so you can avoid it, but it’s comforting to believe there’s someone out there who is meant for you and that the red string of fate will draw you together someday. I never thought any of this was real. I always thought of it as illogical nonsense that stupid people somehow still believed in despite the highly logical nature of today’s society._

_And yet…_

_And yet…_

_How can I be expected to believe it was mere coincidence that you stopped me on the street outside the coffee shop; me, out of all those people walking past. You stopped the person who would believe your story, who knew someone who could help you return home, and who would fall in love with you. How could that possibly be accidental?_

_I have never considered myself as someone who believes in fate or soulmates, but it all makes sense for us. I still don’t believe opening an umbrella indoors will trigger a series of unfortunate events, but I’m not too sure about coincidences anymore._

_While I was discussing this with Rachel, she behaved rather strangely. I don’t know if it was the topic of conversation or if she is just distracted by something else at the moment, but she was acting…odd. I hope there are no problems at the theatre; I couldn’t deal with her distress and anger over an early end to her show’s run on top of everything else._

_I’m heading back to Ohio in a couple of days to spend Christmas with my family. I can’t wait to see them again. I’m really looking forward to spending the holiday with them – even if you were supposed to be coming with me. I can’t describe how much I wish you were coming to Lima with me to meet my family for the first time; to spend our first Christmas together._

_I hope you have a lovely Christmas. I’m sure you’ll be happy to be spending it with your family._

_With all my love,_  
Kurt.  
Xxx 

With a wistful sigh, Kurt saved the email and clicked off his account. Hitting the button to shut his laptop down, he sat back in his chair and thought over what he had just written.

If all of it was true – destiny, soulmates – then what had he and Blaine done to deserve such a crappy deal? Why had they, as soulmates, only been a tiny dot in each other’s timelines, only having a brief encounter? Why had they been destined to meet only to be cruelly separated? If everything happened for a reason – which Kurt had to admit he found hard not to believe – then what was the reason for Blaine feeling the need to leave? Kurt was aware, deep down, that this may mean Blaine wasn’t really his soulmate – if this was all real. He found this hard to believe.

Rubbing his hand across his forehead and running it through his hair in frustration, Kurt got up and looked around for a way to distract himself. He could mull over all the different reasons why Blaine could have left for hours, but it wouldn’t be of any help to him whatsoever. Nothing could help him feel any better about the person whom he loved and who made him feel the happiest in years having to leave him.

With one last glance at his laptop, he headed through to his room to start packing his bags for his visit home. He would be leaving in two days, but his current state of mind had him neglecting packing he would have normally begun days ago until now. The thought of planning his outfits for the days he was in Lima and trying to fit as many items as possible into the permitted baggage limit had been unappealing to him lately. It just couldn’t hold his attention enough to give him distraction from his thoughts that he’d needed, but right now he didn’t care what he did as long as he did something.

He finished his packing that night, but still tried to cram in several other items in the time before he was due to leave. The plane ticket he’d bought for Blaine all those weeks ago was going unused as Rachel’s dads were coming out to New York to visit her for the holidays. She saw Kurt off into a cab to the airport, telling him to relax and try to forget about New York while he was there. Kurt caught the implication to forget about Blaine, but he knew that was a battle he didn’t stand a hope of winning; he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about Blaine any more than he could prevent the sun from rising in the morning. 

His dad met him at the airport. He ran over to him and hugged him tightly when he spotted him, feeling like a kid again. He had to agree with Rachel on one thing: he did need this time with his family, away from New York. Being away from all the pressures and reminders in the city would be good for him.

“How are you doing?” his dad asked on the car ride from the airport. Kurt had noticed him giving his appearance a close look when he’d greeted him at the airport. He knew his dad had been looking for signs that he wasn’t looking after himself: clothes hanging off a thin frame, bags under his eyes, an unhealthy pallor to his skin. He hadn’t expressed concern about anything yet, so Kurt presumed he must have passed that particular test.

Kurt shrugged, noncommittal, his eyes on the road ahead. “I’m alright.”

He felt his dad’s gaze rest on him for a moment, before it returned to the road. “Is it getting any easier?”

Kurt thought for a bit instead of jumping in with the refusal that was on his lips. “It’s more bearable,” he said, thinking of how he was able to almost forget about the pain when he was keeping himself busy with work.

There was a pause as his dad processed this reply, flicking on the indicator and turning down the street the Hudson-Hummel residence was on. “At least you’re over the worst stage,” he said. He braked and steered the car into the driveway.

Kurt didn’t think there was a ‘worst stage’; it all felt absolutely horrible to him and he couldn’t see that changing. He hung back as he followed his dad into the house, dragging his suitcase along behind him. On one hand he couldn’t wait to see Carole, but on the other he didn’t want any more sympathy or worry over him; he didn’t think he could handle any more of that.

It quickly became apparent that he was mistaken. Carole greeted him as usual with a hug and a kiss on the cheek and after asking him about his flight, she immediately began talking about her plans for Christmas Day. Kurt couldn’t have been more grateful.

“I was thinking we’d do the usual present opening after breakfast and then we can Skype Rachel and Finn,” she explained brightly, leading the way through to the kitchen where she had coffee brewing. “I think the year we left it until the evening to Skype them was a mistake. Better to do it in the morning before alcohol and too-much food.”

Kurt took mugs for their coffee out of the cupboard, glad he was doing mundane, domestic tasks and having a conversation that didn’t have him moping over Blaine while people patted him consolingly on the back. He understood why his dad had brought the situation up and was watching him closely for signs that he may not be coping as well as he was letting on, but Carole seemed to have a better grasp of how to help him. Talking about it all did help, but it was exhausting and right now, while he was spending Christmas away from New York, he wanted a break from it all.

“It reduces the likelihood Finn will fall asleep after five minutes, as well,” Kurt agreed, setting the mugs down for Carole to pour the coffee into. “What’s the plan for Christmas dinner?”

The conversation on Christmas Day ran smoothly into a description of how the garage was doing. After a brief mention of Kurt’s work, they discussed the pros and cons of different stores for the final pre-Christmas grocery shop, and Kurt agreed to go shopping with Carole the next day.

All in all, everything went as Kurt had been hoping it would, until he went up to his old room to unpack.

For some reason the sight of his old belongings brought a rush of pain and loneliness from Blaine’s absence. Blaine was supposed to have been there with him just now. He would have met Carole and Burt for the first time, they would have loved him, and now, while they unpacked, Blaine would have been fretting over whether they truly liked him or not. He could almost hear Blaine’s voice, could almost see his face, his eyebrows scrunched together in worry. He had been foolish to think Lima was safe from memories and wistful longings for Blaine.

With a soft sigh he unzipped his suitcase and began to unpack his clothes into the dresser. Escaping his love for Blaine would take a lot more than a visit to another state.


	18. Chapter 18

Kurt returned to New York at the end of December, feeling better for having been away and spent time with his family. He thought about staying in Lima for New Years, but after several pleading phone calls from Rachel and his family urging him to go and enjoy himself by ringing in the New Year at the annual party hosted by one of Rachel’s cast mates, he came back. Rachel talked his ear off from the second he stepped into the apartment, telling him all about her time with her dads. Kurt was grateful for her lack of insight on when to stop talking; he’d spent the flight back thinking of the New Year and Blaine, and he was glad she was giving him something else to occupy his mind with. 

“So, how was your Christmas?” Rachel asked brightly, still smiling after talking about her afternoon of ice skating with her dads yesterday.

Kurt blinked at her, a little taken aback by the abrupt switch in conversation topic. “Oh.” He fumbled around for words. “Oh, it was good. Pretty quiet, but it was nice to get a break from… from this.”

Rachel nodded slowly, her eyes searching his. She’d jumped from gushing and beaming and holding center court to peering at him with concern so quickly that Kurt had no time to bury his worries or mask how he was feeling.

“You didn’t feel forced to come back for New Years, did you? Because I know I said I really wanted you to come, but you could have stayed with your family if you didn’t feel like going this year.”

Kurt shook his head. “It’s fine. We’ve gone to this party together for the last few years now; I’d hate to break the tradition.” He gave her his best attempt at a reassuring smile.

Rachel returned his smile and lifted her eyebrows in a haughty manner. “Well, I do need someone as fabulous as myself to accompany me.”

“And someone to dress you for the occasion,” Kurt added, copying her snobbish tone.

She clapped her hands together. “Ooh, yes!” she exclaimed. “I wanted to get my dress all sorted out today actually. We’ve got dinner with my dads later – did I tell you about that?” She paused, scrunching her forehead in thought for a moment, before she shrugged. “They’re taking us both out to dinner tonight, but we should still have plenty of time to pick out the perfect outfit for me.” She grabbed Kurt’s hand and tugged him to his feet, leading him through to her room. “I got these cute new shoes from Shelby and I was thinking-”

Kurt watched Rachel pull dozens of pairs of shoes and heaps of dresses out of her closet, only really half-listening to what she was saying. He did his best to concentrate on the dresses she was showing him, but it was hard. He wasn’t looking forward to this party at all. His enthusiasm for it was so low he could barely summon up the energy to plan an outfit for his friend, something he normally loved doing. He’d been to this party twice and knew what it was like. There wasn’t anything particularly wrong with it, but as it was thrown by one of Rachel’s friends, he didn’t know many of the people attending. This hadn’t been a problem last year when he’d taken Liam along with him, but this year it would just be himself, Rachel, and Finn. He’d be spending New Years as a third wheel at a party full of mostly strangers who were all excited to be celebrating the beginning of a New Year, the chance of a fresh start, the passing of more time. He was dreading it.

It took all of his concentration and most of his energy, but he managed to help Rachel pick out an outfit for the party. He then just had time to shower and change before Rachel’s dads arrived to take them to dinner.

He greeted LeRoy and Hiram Berry warmly. He had always liked them and they’d given him invaluable advice and support during high school when he’d struggled with bullies. They’d become sort of like adopted uncles to him and they treated him as such, inviting him to family events such as the dinner that night. 

The restaurant they’d chosen was one he’d never been to before. The food looked good and the atmosphere was pleasant, but Kurt was put off ever returning by the behaviour of one of their waiters. From the moment he laid eyes on Kurt he began flirting openly with him.

“And can I get you anything?” the waiter asked Kurt, his voice lower than when he’d taken everyone else’s drink orders. “Can I recommend you a wine?” He tried to meet Kurt’s eyes, but Kurt dropped his gaze to the menu, feeling slightly uncomfortable.

“I’ll just have some water, thank you,” he replied. He wasn’t in the mood for alcohol.

“That’s no problem at all,” the waiter said, still talking as though he and Kurt were having a private, intimate conversation. Kurt stared determinedly at his menu, though he’d already decided what he wanted to eat. “I’ll be right back with those for you.”

The waiter left. Kurt waited a few seconds to make sure he was out of earshot, before looking up.

“Oh, God,” he groaned as everyone at the table turned to look at him.

Hiram glanced over in the direction the waiter had gone. “He’s not bad looking.”

“He’s not my type,” Kurt replied automatically. The waiter was around the same height as him, blond, and a bit on the skinny side. It was true, he wasn’t all that bad looking, but he didn’t have dark curls, honey-gold eyes, or a smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes.

“You should be flattered,” Rachel said briskly, smoothing her napkin out on the table.

“I don’t find blatant flirting with a customer at a restaurant all that flattering,” Kurt said, looking out across the restaurant and shuddering when the guy winked at him as he carried their drinks to the table. “It’s a bit predatory.”

Rachel eyed him from her spot next to him. He deliberately kept looking ahead of him, not wanting to catch her eye. He knew what she wanted to say: how he wouldn’t have minded the attention a year ago, and he didn’t want to get into a discussion about it. He wanted to try and do the impossible: make it through an evening without being drawn into a void of loneliness over Blaine. 

“Here are your drinks,” the waiter announced, setting their glasses down and trying to catch Kurt’s eye as he did so. “Are you ready to order?” He pulled out his order pad and looked expectantly at Kurt.

As Kurt fumbled with his menu, still trying to avoid catching the waiter’s eye, LeRoy cleared his throat and Kurt felt the waiter’s gaze lift off him. 

“I’ll have the eggplant lasagne.”

Everyone else followed suit and ordered their meals, giving Kurt time to compose himself and remember what he’d chosen to eat. By the time the waiter had turned back to him he was able to look up with a bland smile on his face and say what he wanted, ignoring the flirtatious smile he received in response. When he left for the kitchens, Hiram began talking, drawing Rachel and LeRoy into conversation, and giving Kurt the chance to straighten everything out in his head.

He felt guilty. Even though he wasn’t responding to the waiter’s advances in any way, and despite the fact he and Blaine were no longer together, he still felt like he was cheating on Blaine. He supposed this was a common reaction when the end of relationship was still fresh. It just felt adherently wrong for someone else to be coming onto him; he was Blaine’s.

But even without all of that, he wouldn’t be interested in this guy. Everything about him screamed ‘not Blaine’, and that meant there was nothing attractive about him. He was too tall, too blond, his eyes were a muddy brown instead of warm honeyed hazel, and the sound of his voice didn’t make warmth spill into his stomach. He wasn’t Blaine, so Kurt wasn’t interested.

“Is he really bothering you?” Hiram asked once their food had been served and the waiter had left the table again after several suggestive smiles and flirty looks at Kurt. “I can put in a complaint if you want,” he offered.

Prodding his chicken with his fork, Kurt sighed. “No, it’s alright.” He gave Rachel and her dads a small smile. “He is making me feel a bit uncomfortable, but it’s fine.”

None of them looked particularly reassured by his response and Kurt knew his stiff posture and lack of enthusiasm for his food wasn’t convincing them. He tried to relax and enjoy his food, changing the topic of conversation to the show Rachel and her dads had seen recently. His issue with the waiter mostly stemmed from his situation with Blaine; he didn’t want the waiter to get in trouble with his boss because of this, even if he wasn’t behaving appropriately towards customers. Most of all, he didn’t want to cause any trouble.

They made it through the rest of the meal without any more mentions of the inappropriate waiter. Once the table was cleared of dirty plates and the bill was taken care of, the waiter wished them a pleasant night and managed to slip Kurt a piece of paper with a wink before he left to serve another table. As everyone put on their coats, Kurt unfolded the paper and rolled his eyes at the scrawled ‘call me’ followed by a cell phone number.

He dropped the slip of paper in the trash on the way out the restaurant.

Over the next few days Rachel became increasingly excited for the New Year’s Eve party. She went out and got her hair and nails done, spent hours debating out loud how she would do her make up, and talked Kurt into helping pick an outfit for Finn. As she got more and more excited, Kurt looked forward to it less and less. He wasn’t in the mood to spend a night drinking and dancing; he’d much rather stay at home and try to have an early night. 

It was with next to no enthusiasm that Kurt got ready for the party on New Year’s Eve. He tried to smile and act willing around Rachel so she didn’t feel bad about persuading him to come back from Lima, but when he was alone in his room, smoothing out the lines of his jacket, he let his smile fall. His feet dragged as he headed through to the living room to wait for Rachel. As he waited, he slid a hand into the pocket of his pants, his fingers encountering the cool metal of Blaine’s pocket watch. He had debated for a while about bringing it with him tonight, but had decided in the end that he couldn’t really bear to part from it. It felt wrong to leave it behind. 

“Ready to go?”

Rachel entered the room, her heels thudding on the wooden floors. She looked stunning in her dress, and with her hair curled and make up meticulously done she looked older, a lot different from the girl Kurt had sat next to in the choir room in high school. 

Kurt straightened up from where he’d been leaning against the back of the couch. “You look beautiful,” he said, walking towards her.

Rachel smiled, looking pleased. “Hopefully Finn thinks so, too,” she said, looking down at her dress and brushing imaginary lint off the fabric. 

“He will,” Kurt told her, not a trace of doubt in his mind. He offered Rachel his arm. “Let’s get going then, shall we?”

Rachel looped her arm through his and together they left the apartment, heading downstairs to meet the cab they had booked.

Finn met them at the party, immediately blushing and babbling over how wonderful Rachel looked. Kurt did his best to both tune them out and keep the aching jealousy from showing on his face. He tried to tell himself that it wasn’t the end of the world that he didn’t have anyone here to compliment him and lead him off to dance, but it was hard when the image of Blaine’s face was burned into his mind, wide-eyed and lips parted, the way he’d been on the night of their rooftop dinner date. He could almost hear Blaine’s voice in his ear, telling him he looked beautiful. Kurt closed his eyes against the wash of pain pouring through him, drowning his organs and senses.

He tried to get into the spirit of the party: he drank the drinks being supported on trays carried by white-coated waiters, ate some of the canapés artfully arranged on the buffet table, spoke to the people he recognised, and laughed at their jokes, but it was far more effort than it should have been. After a few hours of this, he collapsed on one of the chairs grouped around a number of circular tables just off to the side of the dance floor. He was exhausted, his feet and legs ached, and his eyes stung and felt heavy. He wanted nothing more than to be home alone in bed. Staring blankly out over the dancers, he caught sight of Rachel and Finn, twirling together amongst the swirls of brightly coloured dresses and neat suits. It was the first he’d seen of them since they’d disappeared onto the dance floor on arrival. They looked like they were enjoying themselves, laughing and beaming as they spun each other around. Kurt was glad that they, at least, were having fun.

He sunk into a kind of stupor, staring sightlessly across the dance floor, until one of the chairs opposite him was pulled out from the table.

“Kurt!” a female voice exclaimed. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here. Rachel said you were going to stay in Ohio for New Years.”

Kurt blinked himself back to reality, finding Ellie sitting across from him, smiling delightedly. He fixed a smile on his face. “Hi, Ellie. Are you enjoying the party?”

Swaying tipsily in her chair, Ellie nodded enthusiastically. “I’m at the best New Year’s Eve party in New York!” She took a sip from the glass she was holding. “You don’t look as if you’re enjoying yourself, though,” she added. A small frown line appeared between her eyebrows and she looked around at the surrounding tables. “Where’s your boyfriend – Blaine, isn’t it?”

Kurt froze, his heart clenching painfully. Unconsciously, his hand curled into a fist in his lap.

Ellie was still looking around as if expecting Blaine to suddenly pop out from under one of the tables.

Kurt swallowed thickly. “He’s not here tonight,” he said rather hoarsely. 

“What?” Ellie had had too much to drink to notice his pained expression, rough voice, and reluctance to speak. “Where is he then?”

“He had to spend tonight with his family,” Kurt replied. “It- It’s tradition for them.”

“Oh.” Ellie stared at him for a moment. “Well, that’s too bad.”

Kurt nodded his agreement, bracing himself for any other questions she might ask him. Thankfully, he was spared from any more as several of Ellie’s friends appeared, tugging her to her feet and dragging her off towards the dance floor.

“Happy New Year, Kurt!” she called over her shoulder as she vanished into the crowds.

Feeling as though he’d just dodged a bullet, Kurt took out his pocket watch and checked the time: about an hour until midnight. He weighed up his options in his mind, trying to decide how worried Rachel would be if he left early.

Making up his mind, he got to his feet, slipping the watch back into his pocket. He wasn’t at all enjoying himself, he’d never wanted to come, and other than a brief glimpse earlier, he hadn’t seen Rachel or Finn since they’d arrived at the party; they wouldn’t miss him.

He pushed his way through the crowds of people in varying states of drunkenness until he reached the doors and was stepping outside, hurrying down the steps past the couple of people outside for some air. When he reached the street he began to worry about how easy it would be to get a cab, but luckily spotted one coming down the road towards him. He flagged it down, feeling relieved when it pulled up to the curb.

As he expected, the traffic was mayhem. He jiggled his leg anxiously as he checked and re-checked the time on his watch. He wanted to be home before midnight; there was something he needed to do before a new day – a new year – began.

It was five minutes to midnight when he unlocked the apartment door. The living room was in darkness, the only light coming from that of the neighbouring buildings. Shrugging out of his coat and tossing it over the back of the couch, Kurt strode over to the window where he settled down in the chair they had by it, gazing out across the city.

With all of the rushing around getting ready and Rachel asking his opinion on dozens of eyeshadow and lipstick shades, Kurt hadn’t had the time to look at the stars yet. He’d promised Blaine that he would do it every night – needed to do it every night to keep himself sane – and he didn’t want to miss tonight, of all nights. He didn’t want to start a new year breaking his promise to Blaine. 

The sky was almost completely clear; perfect for all of the fireworks displays. Kurt fixed his eyes on a distant patch of sky he could see between buildings, where a cluster of three stars glimmered. As he stared at them, a bang echoed through the city, followed swiftly by a succession of others. Looking away from the cluster of stars to the much larger expanse of sky off to his left, he watched several fireworks burst in an explosion of colour. 2015 had arrived without him noticing.

As he watched the fireworks burst over the city, filling the sky with reds and golds and purples, Kurt felt a bubble of hope rise inside him. He didn’t know where this newfound optimism had come from, but he had the feeling that this year would be good to him. Whether it was intuition or wishful thinking, he didn’t know, but the hope was there and it brought a small smile to his face as he watched the fireworks.

“Happy New Year, Blaine,” he said softly, watching as another firework exploded, raining golden sparks down from the sky.

 

~ * ~

 

It took Rachel a while to get going the next day. Kurt wasn’t sure what time she got home – he went to bed as soon as the fireworks stopped – but it must have been very late if her slow movements and many yawns were anything to go by. Normally, Kurt wouldn’t care how late she slept or how long it took her to get dressed, but her dads were coming over for lunch and so far he had done almost everything to prepare for the meal by himself.

He finished setting the napkins out on the table and sighed when he realized almost everything was ready. Hiram and LeRoy would be arriving any minute now, and Rachel still hadn’t appeared.

“Get a wiggle on, Rachel!” he called in the direction of her room. He went into the kitchen to check on the vegetables he had roasting in the oven, looking round when he heard footsteps. 

Rachel was standing behind him, dressed and with her make up done, but her hair was still a tangled mess. Kurt opened his mouth to say something about this, but stopped at the look on Rachel’s face.

“You sound like Blaine,” she said quietly.

Kurt’s mouth fell open again, then snapped shut. He felt as though the floor had suddenly disappeared from under his feet and he was free-falling to an invisible landing. For some reason, at that moment he realized – he really understood – that, in this time, Blaine was no longer alive. Blaine had lived his life and was now gone from the world; he wasn’t in some other pocket of the universe. He’d had his time on Earth and now he was gone from it, nothing but a stone marker somewhere showing that he’d walked this land. 

He distantly heard Rachel speak, say his name. Blindly, he stretched out a hand, searching for something to hold onto, to anchor him, to stop him from plummeting down into the void.

He could go. He could go and see the place where Blaine now rested. He could torture himself and visit his grave. He could do it. He could.

He didn’t even realize he was crying until Rachel placed a hand on his arm and sensation came back to him as the gaping void beneath his feet closed up.

“Kurt? I’m sorry – I shouldn’t have said that. I wasn’t thinking.” Rachel looked guilty, internally beating herself up.

Kurt shook his head numbly. “It’s ok. I guess I-” He blinked down at his friend, the last vestiges of adrenaline from the fall leaving him. “I- Blaine isn’t alive anymore. I never really let myself realise that until now.”

Rachel’s face softened, her forehead pinching into a sad and sympathetic frown. She rubbed at Kurt’s arm and opened her mouth, something flaring up in her eyes. She closed her mouth and dropped her gaze away from Kurt’s, looking down at her hand on his arm instead.

A spark of curiosity ignited inside Kurt, but it was dulled almost immediately after it flickered into being. But then Rachel looked up at him again, the same odd look in her eyes, as though she was concealing something important from him.

“Rachel?” he said, questioning, his curiosity flaring up again and filtering into his expression.

Licking her lips, Rachel looked away again. She removed her hand from Kurt’s arm and fidgeted with her nails. “I don’t know what it means,” she said quietly, her voice so low Kurt had to lean forward to hear her. “I may have jumped to conclusions the other day.”

Kurt frowned, confusion making his pain retreat to a distant corner where it burned with a low heat.

Rachel lifted her shoulders in a small shrug, her eyes flicking up briefly to meet Kurt’s. “I- I don’t want to get your- I don’t want to make things worse.”

“Rachel – what?”

Rachel’s lips moved silently as she twisted her fingers together. She glanced up at Kurt again and her mouth stopped moving. Her hands fell to her sides; she looked resigned.

“When I did research on Blaine when you- when I didn’t believe he was from the past, I found these scans of old newspaper articles – the paper keeps an archive of all its articles online.” She paused, swinging her hands at her sides slightly.

Kurt nodded impatiently, willing her to get to the point.

“I found articles there on Blaine from 1923. There were several of them over a few months. They- They said he’d gone missing.”

Kurt grabbed her shoulder, making her look up at him. “Missing?” he gasped.

Rachel swallowed. “At first I thought it was from him time travelling, but then I realized that, based on what you’d said, the dates of the articles didn’t match with when Blaine had left his own time.”

Kurt’s heart was beating very fast; pounding so hard in his chest he was surprised its thumping wasn’t visible through his shirt. “When were they from?”

“The first one was from December. The rest were early the next year.”

“December 1923?” Kurt asked.

Rachel nodded. “I thought- The other day when I said that stuff about soulmates, I thought the articles maybe meant Blaine came back – that Blaine was going to return to this time, to you.”

Kurt stared at her, speechless. His heart leaped at the possibility of that being true, of Blaine realizing his life really was better in the twenty-first century, and returning. His face fell when another possibility occurred to him.

“What if those articles were about the time travelling failing? What if Blaine never made it back to his own time?” His stomach tightened with fear.

“I-” For a moment, Rachel looked panicked, too, and then the fear dimmed in her eyes a little. “But, no- The dates still don’t match up. It wouldn’t take them that long to report him missing in the papers.”

Kurt relaxed slightly, then tensed again. “We don’t know how the time travel works. We don’t know if the time stopped for Blaine while he was in the future and he returned to find no time had passed, or what.”

Rachel’s face fell again. She looked stumped. They stood in silence for a good minute, Kurt’s stomach churning with nauseating fear and worry, until Rachel spoke again.

“Do you want to read the articles?” she asked him tentatively.

Kurt shook his head. “No. No, I don’t-” He broke off, his breathing shallow. A question niggled at him, but he worried at the answer. He eyed Rachel fearfully, thinking it over. The question would bother him until he knew the answer; he had to ask.

“Wh- What did they eventually decide had happened to him?”

Rachel gazed at him for a moment, taking in his fearful expression and tight, pale face. “They gave up the search for him in March. They said he must have run away from home, made a new identity, and cut off all contact to everyone he knew.”

Kurt closed his eyes. Blaine had either run away from everyone and everything he knew, had suffered a serious problem in travelling back to his own time, or was, maybe, going to come back to this time. Kurt remembered the hope he’d felt last night while watching the fireworks and, though he’d never put much stock in premonition, he prayed it had something to do with Blaine. 

 

~ * ~

 

“-I know I resigned myself to it by coming back here, but I can’t spend the rest of my life pretending to be someone I’m not. I just can’t, Wes.” Blaine dropped his head into his hands and squeezed his eyes shut, feeling them burn from another sleepless night.

“No,” Wes said firmly. “No, you’re not getting married to Anna.” Blaine heard him pick his coffee cup up and set it down again. “You’re going to postpone that proposal for as long as you can – tell your parents anything to buy yourself more time. In the meantime we are going to do everything we can to find out how we can get you back to Kurt. I’ll start taking books home at night as well. We can do this, Blaine; we have to.”

Blaine lifted his head up, squinting slightly against the bright winter sunshine streaming through the windows of the small café they were sitting in. He managed to give Wes a small, tight smile.

It was the morning after Blaine’s parents had dropped the proposal bombshell on him. He and Wes had met at the library as planned, but after one look at Blaine’s face, Wes had dragged him off to a nearby café to talk and get some much needed caffeine. Blaine had felt his panic rising again as he’d told Wes what had happened the night before, but it was quickly dulled by extreme weariness. He was so tired of fighting to be himself. 

After another fruitless day searching in the library, Blaine went home, weighed down with as many book as he could carry and the despair that had been hanging over him since the previous night. He let himself into the house and was greeted with the false laughter of his mother. Groaning, Blaine shouldered the door closed behind him. If his mother was laughing like that it meant she had one of her friends over for dinner, friends whom would spend the evening asking him endless questions, mostly about the proposal his mother was bound to have told them about.

Tiptoeing across the hall, he tried not to draw his mother’s attention as he crept up the stairs to put the books away in his room; the last thing he wanted was someone asking him what he was researching. Knowing he couldn’t hide upstairs, he dumped the books on his desk and reluctantly went down into the living room where he could hear his mother talking. When he reached the threshold, he jerked to a stop and stared in horror, feeling as though all of his insides had dropped out of him.

Anna was sitting in the room with his parents.

The muscles in his legs tensed, preparing for him to spin around and sprint out of the house, but before he could move, his father looked up and saw him.

“Ah, Blaine,” he said, smiling at him. “We’ve been waiting for you to come home. Your mother and I invited Anna round for dinner. We thought it would be nice for all of us to spend some time together.”

Forcing a polite smile, Blaine nodded, unable to speak due to the fear sticking his throat. Anna was beaming up at him from her spot on the couch.

“The ball is only a few weeks away, Blaine. You need to let me know exactly what you’re wearing so you don’t clash with my dress,” she told him, oblivious to his discomfort as he joined her on the couch, sitting stiffly as far away from her as he could get.

“Oh,” Blaine mumbled, avoiding the eyes of everyone in the room. “I haven’t decided what I’m going to wear yet.”

A slightly awkward pause followed this. Mrs Anderson broke it before it stretched on for too long.

“That doesn’t matter! You have plenty of time to let Anna know what you’re wearing. And don’t you worry, dear,” she added, shifting her gaze to Anna. “If Blaine’s outfit doesn’t compliment your dress we’ll get him something that does. We want you to stand-out at this ball as much as possible.”

Resisting the urge to groan or roll his eyes, Blaine tuned out his mother and Anna’s gushing over dresses and the ball. He was interested in fashion and he loved hearing Kurt talk at great length about clothes, but the way his mother and Anna were talking about it left him feeling bored and irritable. Maybe it was because Kurt spoke of clothes with passion, whereas they just spoke of how much attention an outfit would bring them.

Dinner was equally as awful. The table had been deliberately set so Blaine was seated next to Anna, and she barely stopped talking throughout the entire meal. Whenever his mother or father got the chance to speak they drew Blaine into the conversation as well, when he wanted nothing more than to eat in silence. Once dinner was over he hopefully awaited the announcement of Anna’s departure, but his hopes were quickly extinguished when his mother encouraged him and Anna to go through to the living room while she and his father cleared up and got them all coffee. The significant look his father gave him when Blaine made to leave the dining room had his stomach churning with nausea.

Anna spoke the entire time they were alone in the living room. Blaine didn’t hear anything she said, he was too distracted thinking about the look his father had given him. His parents had obviously invited Anna over this evening to give Blaine the opportunity to propose. He wondered how angry his parents would be if he didn’t do it and gave them the excuse of wanting to prepare more.

It was some time later that his parents finally re-joined them – or, at least, it felt like it had been a long time to Blaine. His mother had an eager smile on her face when she entered the room, her eyes bright with anticipation, and she and her husband looked over at where Anna and Blaine were sat on opposite ends of the couch. Their faces fell.

“Everything alright in here?” Mrs Anderson asked, carrying a tray of coffee over to the table. She glanced between them, her gaze lingering on Blaine.

Anna beamed at her. “Everything’s swell, Mrs Anderson,” she replied cheerfully. “Thank you again for inviting me for dinner.”

The clock on the mantelpiece chimed 8 o’clock and Anna looked over at it, her smile turning apologetic. “Gosh, is that the time? I’d better get home – my mother is expecting me.”

“I’ll drive you back,” Mr Anderson offered, heading for the door. 

Blaine sat in silence as Ann thanked his mother again and said her goodbyes. He smiled and nodded when she bid him farewell and reminded him to let her know about his outfit for the ball. When she had left, he braced himself for his mother to start harassing him about the proposal, but she just continued to serve up the coffee in silence. She didn’t look at Blaine when she handed him a cup; he took that as a warning sign.

The second his father arrived back from taking Anna home, they started.

“You didn’t propose,” his father stated, annoyance evident in his tone.

Blaine set his barely touched coffee down. “I- No.” His parents exchanged a look and nerves flooded his stomach, making it twist and churn. “It didn’t-”

“You know your mother and I deliberately invited Anna over and then left you two alone so you could propose?” his father interrupted. His eyes were cold and hard. 

Blaine’s hands began to shake. “It didn’t feel like the right moment,” he said lamely.

His parents stared at him.

Blaine swallowed nervously. “I- I want to make it special. It’s a big moment.”

He waited on tenterhooks for some sort of explosion, or a vaguely threatening suggestion to take Anna out tomorrow and ask her then, but after exchanging another look, his parents dropped the subject.

“Of course,” his mother said, sipping from her cup. “Just don’t wait too long to ask her.”

And with that the subject, thankfully, moved on to gossip about one of their neighbors.

As soon as he felt he was safe to do so, Blaine escaped upstairs to his room where, feeling frantic, he sat down at his desk and began to read through the library books. He read even when his eyes began to feel heavy and stung whenever he blinked, when his parents came upstairs and went to bed, when the house reached the still silence that only came with midnight. When he finished one book he moved on to the next without pausing. When the small black print on the pages started to blur, he slowed his pace and forced himself to stay focused. He fought the need to sleep whenever it threatened to close his eyes and make him slump down in the chair. He wanted to finish these books tonight; he had less time than he’d thought.

It didn’t immediately register when he found it. He’d been reading for so long and he was so tired that it took several minutes for the words he’d just read to sink in. With a frantic scrabble of hands over paper, he yanked the book closer to him and searched back over what he’d read for the part that could possibly be what he was looking for.

It was a couple of paragraphs on a group of people who believed in magic and got together once a month to practice it. Heart pounding and suddenly feeling wide awake, he flipped to the front of the book to check the publication date: the book was only a couple of years old; there was a good chance this group of people still existed.

Letting the book fall back open at the relevant page, Blaine sat back in his chair, feeling excited. He was thrumming with the kind of anticipation he hadn’t felt since coming back to this time. He only wished it weren’t so late so he could go tell Wes the good news now. 

He looked back over the miracle paragraphs again. “Finally,” he said.

Still smiling, he got ready for bed, keeping his eyes fixed on the stars outside as he did. 

“I’m coming back, Kurt,” he said as hope swelled in his chest. “I’m coming home.”


	19. Chapter 19

“I found it,” Blaine announced breathlessly, skidding to a halt next to Wes outside the library.

Wes looked at him, his eyes widening. “You-?”

“I found what we’ve been looking for: I found a group of people who practice magic in the city.”

Wes’ mouth stretched into a delighted smile. “That’s fantastic!” he said, relief evident in his eyes. “Where did you find out about them? Was it in one of the books?”

Glancing down at the books cradled in his arms, Blaine nodded. “It was just a short passage; we’re going to have to learn more about them – find out where they meet and how we can get in contact with them.”

Checking his watch, Wes nodded in the direction of the library’s doors and they started to walk towards them. “Do you think we could narrow down which books to search in?” 

Wes asked as they entered the library. “Maybe we could ask one of the librarians? They shouldn’t ask too many questions.”

“No,” Blaine said, shaking his head. “No more books. It’s time we started actually talking to people and asking them questions. We’ll get much more relevant information than what we’d find in books.”

He’d thought about this on the walk over this morning. They’d learned all they could from books; it was time to move on from them. Researching in books was extremely slow and time consuming; they needed to get out of the library and onto the streets where the most current, accurate information was. Last night had been far too close a call; he was running out of time far quicker than he’d thought. There was only so long he could keep making excuses to his parents. 

They stopped a few feet away from the library’s front desk. Wes gave Blaine a slightly worried look.

“Isn’t that too risky? What if they start asking too many questions?” He looked over at the librarian sitting at the desk nearby and lowered his voice. “You can’t tell people you’re looking for information on time travel; they’ll think you belong in an asylum.”

“I’ve thought about this,” Blaine said, adjusting his grip on his books when his arms began to ache. “Now that we have something to go on we won’t be asking such vague questions. I doubt they will trigger much suspicion or curiosity, less so if we ask in the right places.”

“And where are the right places? Wes asked, checking his watch and stepping up to the desk to return his books. 

“I don’t know yet,” Blaine admitted. “I’m going to walk around today and try and figure that out.”

As soon as Wes had returned his books he had to dash off to work, leaving Blaine to wander slowly out of the library and down the street, trying to decide where the best place to begin his search would be. He’d never heard any mention of areas of the city where rumors of magic or the supernatural stemmed from, and with a city the size of New York, walking around aimlessly and hoping to stumble upon somewhere relevant by accident wasn’t practical. 

With not a clue where he was going, Blaine stepped off to the side where he was out of the way of the other pedestrians and leaned against the wall of a small clothing store, thinking hard.

He had no idea where to begin searching, but he couldn’t just go up to strangers and ask for help, not with something like this.

Feeling the first prickles of frustration spark inside him, he rubbed at his forehead with his hand, half-hoping the action would jolt some suggestions into his mind.

Nothing. He had nothing.

Realizing walking would be better than standing off to the side trying to think of an answer that wouldn’t come, he set off down the street again, paying much closer attention to his surroundings than he normally did. He continued to think as he walked, but no flash of inspiration came to him, so he did the best he could do to come across somewhere he could get the answers he needed. 

He took side streets instead of the main roads, tried to only walk along streets he’d never been on before, and kept away from the main, busy areas of the city. He was still holding a lot to chance and he was very much aware that he was riding on the assumption that it would be somewhere old and mystical-looking where he would find information. In other words, he was even more hopeless than he had been back when they’d first started researching in the library, but now he could hear the clock ticking down the time he had left before he was forced into a life he didn’t want. 

Losing himself to panic, he walked right past the bookstore before he saw it. He had passed a clothing store and a news agency before he realised what he had just walked past. 

Coming to a sudden halt, making the woman who had almost crashed into the back of him mutter darkly under her breath, Blaine spun round and hurried back the way he had come, stopping outside the tiny bookshop with the heavy, hardback books displayed in the window.

There was nothing mystical or supernatural about the place, nothing that screamed ‘magic’, but something about the little store looked promising to him all the same. He knew there was a good chance the store would be a dead-end, and he knew it was probably desperation that was drawing him to the place, but he couldn’t not try it. 

Rather than noting the bookstore’s location and continuing on his search, he entered the shop, a tiny bell tinkling somewhere when he pushed open the green-painted wooden door.

The store was just as tiny as it looked from the outside. Shelves packed with books lined the walls and more free-standing ones sectioned the shop floor into narrow aisles. The books on sale were nearly all second-hand, pages yellowing and spines creased and cracked. Blaine examined a few of the nearest shelves and found the books to cover a whole range of genres from fictional crime novels to books on gardening. They didn’t seem to be arranged in any real order, displayed in a haphazard jumble of authors and genres. Dust swirled in the air and clung to the covers of the books in the window display. At the very rear of the store he could make out a counter with a till. He made his way towards it. 

A middle-aged man in shirtsleeves and no hat on his greying hair sat on a stool behind the counter. He was preoccupied with something on the counter and he didn’t appear to notice Blaine. As Blaine got closer, he saw the man was actually folding the pages of yesterday’s newspaper into different shapes, the forms of animals and flowers taking shape beneath his hands. He had a little collection beside him of the ones he’d finished: swans and roses and dogs in a cluster by his elbow. Blaine came to a stop a few feet away from the counter and watched the man finish folding up another page from the paper, setting it aside as a little daisy-type flower. Blaine stood watching, fascinated, for a few minutes, all thoughts of why he’d entered the bookstore gone from his mind. Then the man spoke, making Blaine jump as he was jolted out of his trance. 

“You’re looking for something more than books,” he stated, not looking up from the little animal he was making. He spoke in a low voice that nevertheless carried clearly over to where Blaine stood, watching from between two rows of bookshelves.

“I-” Blaine stumbled over his words, the questions he’d practiced earlier on the walk to the library flying out of his head. He was starting to wish he’d waited to have Wes with him before he began asking people for information. What didn’t help was that the man’s manner and words were unnerving. 

“I’m not, no,” Blaine eventually managed to stammer out, hoping the man wasn’t about to demand he leave his store if he wasn’t looking to buy anything.

The man remained silent, finishing the bird he had been making and setting it with its fellows. He pulled another sheet of newspaper towards him. “You’re not the first person to come in here looking for information, and I’m sure you won’t be the last.” The man still hadn’t looked up at Blaine.

Blaine shifted nervously. He didn’t want to just blurt out all of his questions, but he didn’t particularly like the sound of the man’s last statement – what if he was assuming Blaine wanted to know about something else; some criminal gang or something?

“I- I’m doing research for college,” Blaine told him, trying to imitate the smooth way Kurt had talked to the owner of the coffee shop to get the answers to their questions all those months ago. “I wondered if you could help me by answering a few questions?”

He didn’t sound anywhere near as natural as Kurt had done. His well-practiced ability at lying and deceiving convincingly had vanished the moment the other man had spoken.

The man finally looked up at him, his right hand continuing to smooth the edge of a fold he’d made in the paper. He gazed at Blaine for several long seconds, taking him in, and giving Blaine the impression he could tell a lot from simply looking. Eventually, he nodded slowly.

“I’ll answer your questions,” he said, lowering his gaze again and folding a triangle of paper over another section. 

“Um, ok,” Blaine said, feeling thrown by the man’s odd behaviour once again. He waited for a few seconds to see if the man would look up at him. When he didn’t, he ploughed on. “I’m looking to find a group of people in the city who practice magic.” He was relieved to note that he sounded more confident than he felt.

The man was silent for such a long time that Blaine opened his mouth to ask him again, but just as he did so the man spoke.

“You shouldn’t meddle with magic, especially when you’re not familiar with it.”

“I-”

“They meet every Friday and Saturday night after 7pm near the entrance to Holy Cross Cemetery in Brooklyn,” the man continued. “I can’t guarantee they’ll help you, but I know you’ll try anyway.”

Smiling stiffly, Blaine took a step back towards the front of the shop. “Thank you. You’ve been a great help.” He took another step backwards. 

The man looked up at him again, briefly, and Blaine fought down the urge to run. There was something about this man that set him on edge.

“Magic always sounds appealing, but it’s never the answer,” the man said warningly. “It doesn’t produce the happy endings people think. It ain’t like the fairytales.”

“I-” Blaine looked around wildly, his foot sliding back another step. “I’m just looking for information.”

The man didn’t look as though he believed him, but he said nothing more, and after a few more seconds, Blaine turned around and scurried from the store.

He marched quickly along the street, trying to shake off the unsettled feeling that had been clinging to him since the man in the store had first spoken to him. It was only when he was a few blocks away that he realised he didn’t know where he was going. He spun round and headed back the way he’d come, feeling slightly foolish when he hurried past the bookstore again.

He knew he was in the wrong to be returning to the future, but he also didn’t see why it should be right for him to suffer a life of lies and misery. Perhaps he was foolish to use magic to solve his problems, but he had no choice. The man in the bookstore may have unnerved him, but he certainly wasn’t going to back out now.

He headed back home to wait for 7pm to arrive. He called Wes at his work and told him what he’d learned and where they needed to go tonight. Wes said they were lucky today wasn’t a Monday meaning they would have to waste some of the little time they had waiting. Wes agreed to meet Blaine at his house after he’d finished with work so they could go to Brooklyn together, and then Blaine hung up, at a loss of how to spend the rest of the day.

He wasted away the afternoon listening to some of his records, feeling quite content until his father arrived home from work and called him downstairs. With a feeling of dread, Blaine took his record off the player and turned it off, before heading downstairs to see what his father wanted.

He found him standing by the fireplace in the living room, his back to the door. He looked round at the sound of Blaine’s footsteps.

“Blaine,” he greeted tersely.

Blaine smiled politely and gripped the back of the couch, too nervous to sit down. He knew without his father saying anything that this was about Anna.

“I trust you are not busy tomorrow?” his father asked. There was a note of disapproval in his voice. Blaine knew his father wanted him to return to work and didn’t approve of all the time he was spending doing very little, but he was still too heartbroken from leaving Kurt to focus properly, and now he needed all the time he could get to find a way back to the future.

“I, um-” Blaine met his father’s gaze, his response of maybe spending time with Wes dying in his throat. “No, I don’t have any plans.”

His father nodded approvingly. “I’ve arranged for you and Anna to have lunch at the country club tomorrow.”

Blaine’s body seized up in panic; panic that must have shown on his face for his father frowned at him, his eyes hardening.

“I want you to propose to her tomorrow. I can’t see why you’ve been holding off all this time.”

Blaine’s mouth opened and closed silently, his brain flooded with fear, rendering him incapable of saying any sort of excuse.

“I don’t know what your problem is, Blaine, but people are starting to talk and your mother and I don’t like hearing rumors about our family.”

“T- Talk?” Blaine stammered nervously.

His father’s frown deepened. “You’re a twenty-two year old man who isn’t married or engaged, and is rarely seen in the company of an eligible young woman. Of course people are talking.”

Blaine had no idea what to say. He wanted to defend himself and argue how he didn’t want to conform to society’s silly ideas about when people should get married, but something was sticking his throat shut.

“You know how damaging talk like that can be to one’s reputation,” his father continued. “Don’t add fuel to the fire by not proposing tomorrow. If you come home from lunch with another pathetic excuse of why you haven’t done it, you’ll be sorry.” His father glared at him for a moment longer, before nodding at him and striding from the room.

Blaine stared blankly at the place where his father had just been standing, his heart racing, his breathing shallow, and his stomach twisting in fear. Even if the people he was meeting tonight agreed to help him travel he would still end up engaged to Anna. He swallowed thickly. And what if they couldn’t help him? The thought made his blood run cold and he shivered where he stood.

The clock chiming half past five jolted him from his frozen, horrified state. He hurried upstairs to get ready to leave for when Wes arrived, making sure his clothes weren’t wrinkled after lounging around all afternoon, and smoothing down a few stray hairs that had escaped his slicked-down style. Turning away from the mirror, his gaze landed on the bowtie lying on his nightstand. He strode across the room and picked it up, his left hand already working at the bowtie he was currently wearing, untying it and tugging it free from the collar of his shirt. He wanted to wear the bowtie Kurt had given him tonight; it may give him some luck. Walking back to the mirror, he put on Kurt’s bowtie. He then traced the tied bowtie with his finger, the familiar aching, wistful pain that came with missing Kurt filling him.

“I hope going to see these people tonight is worth it, Kurt,” he whispered, gazing at his reflected hand touching the bowtie in the mirror. “And no matter what happens with Anna tomorrow, I won’t stop fighting to return to you, I promise.”

The doorbell rang and Blaine turned away from the mirror again, lowering his hand from his bowtie. Wes was here. 

He made to hurry down the stairs, but something stopped him when he reached his bedroom door. He glanced back over his shoulder, his attention drawn to his bookcase. 

Without thinking, and with no idea of why, he jogged over to it, knelt down on the floor, and tugged one of his records from its spot on the bottom shelf. Slipping his hand into the sleeve, he pulled out all of the neatly folded letters he’d written to Kurt and tucked them into the inside pocket of his jacket. Satisfied, and still without a thought as to why he wanted to carry the letters on him tonight, he put the record back, got to his feet, and ran downstairs, where he pulled open the front door and stepped outside to join Wes.

“Nervous?” Wes asked as they set off down the street, Blaine nibbling on his bottom lip and trying to ignore the nauseating churning in his stomach. Blaine could only nod. He felt like he would vomit if he opened his mouth. Plus, talking distracted him from the important task of focussing on trying to control his nerves.

They reached the end of the road and headed in the direction of the nearest train station, heads bowed against the brisk wind coming off the river. Wes glanced over at him a few times, before speaking again.

“It’ll be alright,” he said, sounding more confident and reassuring than Blaine thought was possible. “You said the girl who helped you travel back here wasn’t really sure of what she was doing and she still managed.”

Blaine made a small hum in agreement. While what Wes had said was true, it didn’t reassure him any that everything would all turn out ok in the end.

The train journey out to Brooklyn was silent. Wes made no further attempts at reassuring him, instead staring unseeingly at the opposite wall of the train with a small frown on his face; an almost identical position to the one Blaine was in. They rose in silent unison when their train reached their station, stepping out onto the chilly platform and looking around curiously. Blaine had never been to this part of Brooklyn before.

“I think it’s this way,” Wes said hesitantly once they’d left the station, pointing down a road leading off to the right.

Having no idea which way they should go, Blaine shrugged agreeably and followed Wes across the street and down the road he had pointed at. His nerves increased with every step he took and he started breathing deeply and slowly, trying to calm himself down before he did something stupid, like spinning around and sprinting back home. He desperately wanted to meet these people and find out if they could help him, but at the same time he was terrified about what they might say and of having his only hope crumble to dust.

The part of Brooklyn they were in was quiet for a Friday night, only a few people were walking the streets, most of them turning into the houses lining either side of the road. 

They were walking through a typical residential area; Blaine couldn’t see how this could possibly be where a group of people met to practice magic.

Wes was obviously thinking along the same lines as him.

“Are you sure this is the right place?” he asked, looking up at the brownstones they were passing. “What if that man just made this address up?”

“He didn’t,” Blaine replied firmly. If there was one thing he was sure of, it was this.

Wes looked across at him, both curiosity and worry in his eyes, but before he could say anything they rounded a corner in the street and came in view of the cemetery entrance they were looking for.

A small group of people – less than a dozen – were clustered in an overgrown grassy area in between two buildings near the arched entrance of the cemetery. Waist-high weeds competed with scrubby grass for space and the blackened rubble of what was once probably a building similar to those on either side of it lay in a scattered heap in the middle of the square block of land. A couple of the people were sitting on some of these piles of crumbling bricks, but the rest were standing around in small groups nearby, talking. There was no sign of magic or anything out of the ordinary. 

Blaine hesitated, coming to a stop two buildings down from where the group was gathered. What if the man had been lying to him? What if this was some sort of gang?

It took Wes placing a hand on his elbow and tugging on it to get him to move again. His legs seized up so much with every step he was surprised he was capable of walking. What would he say to these people?

When he and Wes stepped onto the patchy, winter-browned grass some of the people broke off their conversation and looked round. They looked curious and wary, but mostly they looked suspicious. A tall blond man narrowed his eyes at them as they drew nearer.

“Good evening,” Wes greeted them politely. The rest of the group turned to stare at them, some whispering to the person standing next to them. “We were told to come here to find some people who practice magic.”

The blond man’s eyes narrowed further. “You have come to the right place.”

Wes nodded and glanced sideways at Blaine, urging him with his eyes to explain his situation to the man, to ask the questions he desperately needed answers to.

“I need to travel into the future,” he blurted out, startling two women sitting on some rubble who had been whispering to each other.

The man’s eyebrows rose. “Time travel?” he repeated, sounding stunned. “It’s impossible.”

Blaine shook his head. “It’s not. I recently travelled ninety-one years into the future and came back again.”

“You-”

The man and the woman standing by the blond man backed away from Blaine, looking both scared and in awe. Blaine’s hands were trembling so violently he had to tuck them into his pockets to hide them.

The blond man had got over his surprise quickly. He frowned. “Then why-?”

“Do I want to travel again?” Blaine finished for him. He licked his dry lips. “Because I’ve made a mistake – a big one. I need to go back to that time I was in.”

The man shook his head, actually looking a little sorry for Blaine. “None of us know- We’ve never done it before; never thought it possible-”

“Is there nothing you can do to help?” Blaine interrupted desperately. “Please.”

The man swallowed. He cast a quick look over his shoulder at the people gathered behind him, listening. One of the women nodded once.

He turned back to Blaine. “You realise none of us know how to do this; we are experimenting with the unknown here.”

“I know,” Blaine said simply. He didn’t care. This may be his only chance and he was going to take it.

“You would risk it?” the man asked. “You would risk your life for this?”

“I would risk anything.”

 

~ * ~

 

_Dear Blaine,_

_2015 has arrived and I rang it in by watching the fireworks from my apartment window and thinking about you. I did go to a party with Rachel and Finn for a little while before, but left when I couldn’t stand it any longer. I hadn’t wanted to go in the first place, but Rachel asked, so I went._

_The strange thing about that night was how I felt hopeful as I watched the New Year fireworks. I don’t know if I was just finally getting into the spirit of things or if I was putting too much stock in the thought of new beginnings, but I felt that this year would be good to me; and for this year to be good to me it has to involve something positive concerning you; I can’t see myself feeling good about moving on from you._

_Rachel mentioned something that may relate to this: she’d read some newspaper articles about you from 1923 saying that you had gone missing and then later ones stating it had been concluded you had moved away to begin a new life. She took this to mean you are going to return to this time, to me. I wonder if this is the reason behind my hope, but I also can’t help but feel doubtful about this. What are the chances you want to come back? You returned to your own time for a very valid reason after all. And what are the chances you actually can come back? Kayleigh made it sound like it was a bit of a chance event that you travelled in the first place and that your return was the universe setting things right again. That doesn’t make it seem very likely that you can come back here. I still can’t completely crush my hope, though._

_Whether you come back or not, remember that I still love you. I want you to choose the life (and the time) that makes you the happiest. I’ll love you no matter which you choose._

_Happy New Year, Blaine. I wish you all the-_

Kurt broke off in the middle of finishing the email at the sound of a knock at the door. Annoyed at the interruption, he set his laptop down on the coffee table and got to his feet, walking over to the door.

He had no idea who it could be. He wasn’t expecting anyone – with his and Rachel’s busy schedules none of their friends ever came over unannounced, and they didn’t really speak to any of their neighbors so he couldn’t see why it would be any of them. Feeling curious, he opened the door.

Shock flooded him. He swayed on the spot, flinging out an arm to brace his hand against the doorframe to stop himself from falling over. He blinked several times in quick succession, unable to believe what he was seeing.

“Blaine?”


	20. Chapter 20

Kurt stared at Blaine. All concept of time became lost to Blaine; he didn’t know how long they stood there gazing at each other. Kurt’s face was pale and his eyes were wide, stunned, disbelieving. His mouth hung open a little bit and his hand visibly shook where it hung by his side. He swayed slightly where he stood despite the hand still braced against the doorframe. Blaine half raised a hand out towards him, worried he would fall.

Blaine took in Kurt’s appearance, his eyes sweeping him hungrily. He looked exactly as he remembered, from the perfectly styled hair to the smooth pale skin. He’d pictured Kurt a lot during their weeks of separation, but his memory was nothing compared to seeing him in person again. He was so beautiful. His stomach swooped pleasantly, his heart kicked off at a faster beat, and his body had begun to thrum with some kind of electricity the moment Kurt had opened the door, and those same sensations were still singing in his body, making him feel like he was floating.

Kurt was still staring. 

Blaine wanted to reach out and touch him, to feel his warm, soft skin beneath his hands and know he was solid and real. He wanted to touch him, to hold him, to kiss him, to never let him go, but he was hesitant about doing so. He couldn’t bring himself to touch Kurt when the other man looked so shocked, almost as if he’d seen a ghost.

Blaine couldn’t take the silence any longer.

“Please say something, Kurt,” he said, his eyes searching Kurt’s face as the other man blinked at him.

Kurt’s mouth opened and closed several times before he said breathlessly, “It’s you; it’s really you.”

Relief obliterated the tiny seed of doubt that had been trying to plant itself in Blaine’s mind. A seed that had been about to grow into branches of worry that Kurt had moved on, and fear that Kurt wouldn’t accept him back into his life. A smile tugged at a corner of Blaine’s mouth. He took half a step towards Kurt, reaching a hand out for him. “It’s me.”

Wariness crept into Kurt’s expression, strong enough to hold Blaine back from throwing himself into Kurt’s arms.

“I’m awake, aren’t I?” Kurt asked, sounding both frantic and almost accusing. “This isn’t a dream?” His hand dropped from the doorframe and he stumbled towards Blaine, stopping just shy of him. “Don’t let this be a dream. I don’t want it to be a dream,” he begged, tears choking up his voice. His large eyes pleaded with Blaine in a way that made tears well up in his own eyes.

“You’re not dreaming,” Blaine assured him softly. “I’m here. I’m real.”

After a slight hesitation, he stretched out his arm again, this time brushing his hand down the length of Kurt’s forearm in a feather-light touch that left him aching for more: more skin, more touch, more Kurt.

Kurt sucked in a breath. “Blaine?” he breathed. His voice was almost inaudible and tears were beginning to slip down his cheeks. There was an ever-brightening spark of hope in his eyes.

Holding back a choked sound, Blaine gave Kurt a watery smile. “I’m here, honey.”

“Blaine,” Kurt said, louder this time. He stumbled forward, tripping into Blaine’s arms and almost knocking him off balance when he threw an arm around him. Blaine cradled him against his chest as Kurt started to sob, placing one hand on Kurt’s shuddering back and the other on his head, his fingers sliding into his thick chestnut hair. Kurt curled one of his hands into Blaine’s waistcoat, the material scrunching in his fist. He clutched at Blaine tightly, as if afraid he would suddenly slip from between his fingers and vanish like smoke.

“Kurt,” Blaine breathed into the other man’s neck. He buried his nose into the soft skin there and inhaled deeply, breathing in the comforting scent he’d missed so much. He could feel a growing cool dampness on Kurt’s shoulder where his own tears were landing, creating wet spots on the fabric of his sweater. Kurt squeezed him a little tighter in response, his face nuzzling into Blaine’s shoulder.

Blaine’s eyes closed and he let himself bask in the feeling of being in Kurt’s arms again; of the feeling of being complete and being home. He was quite content to stand there in the doorway for hours. Neither the stiffness in his back from days of being hunched over books nor the slight twist in his neck was giving him any discomfort.

A door slamming shut down the hall brought them back to reality with an unpleasant bang. Lifting his head from the crook of Kurt’s neck, Blaine looked round for the source of the noise, a little startled. Kurt slowly looked up and released the fistful of Blaine’s waistcoat he’d been holding.

“Let’s go inside,” he murmured, taking Blaine’s hand and tugging him gently into the apartment.

The feeling that had been starkly missing from his family house in the twenties washed over Blaine as he stepped inside: home. He smiled as he followed Kurt into the living area, the feeling of belonging he’d been foolishly searching for back in his own time filling him. 

The apartment was exactly as he remembered it – there was even some of his music books still on the coffee table and balanced on the music stand on the piano, he was surprised to note. The smell of cooking, Kurt, and a faint trace of Rachel’s perfume lingered in the air, and Blaine breathed it in as if it was a rare, intoxicating scent. Everything was familiar and comforting. It was as if he’d never left.

Kurt led the way over to the couch, where he flipped the lid closed on his laptop and moved it from its position on the couch onto the coffee table. They sat down, Kurt still keeping a hold of Blaine’s hand, like he couldn’t bear to let it go. Blaine knew how he felt: he never wanted to be apart from Kurt again.

They sat close to each other: legs touching and shoulders brushing. They gazed at each other silently: rememorizing the sight of each other after relying on memory for so many weeks. They were so close and the apartment was so quiet that Blaine could hear Kurt’s soft breathing. The sound was soothing to him; it served as a steady, constant reminder that he wasn’t in a dream.

After a moment he began craving more of Kurt than what clasped hands and brushing limbs were giving him. He placed a free hand on Kurt’s leg and began rubbing tiny circles on his thigh with his thumb. His movement brought Kurt out of whatever trance he was in.

“H- How?” he whispered, now gazing at Blaine with something close to awe. He was still so shocked by Blaine’s sudden appearance that he seemed incapable of doing much more than simply staring at Blaine.

Blaine took a moment to gather his thoughts. He still couldn’t quite believe all of this himself. An hour ago he’d been in 1923, fearing he would have to propose to a woman he didn’t like just to please society and his parents. Now he was back with Kurt. He’d done the research, found the people to help him, and he’d actually succeeded; he’d actually decided where he wanted to be and had gotten himself there. He could live the life he wanted; he could be happy.

Shaking his head to clear away the approaching wave of realization, Blaine gave Kurt an astonished smile. “I- I- Wes and I did some research in the library, I talked to this strange man in a bookshop, and then we found a group of people who practice magic like Kayleigh does. I told them I wanted to come back here, and they were sceptical at first, but I explained exactly how Kayleigh helped me travel and, well, it worked.”

He knew he’d been incredibly lucky that it had worked. The blond man and few others who had helped him return to Kurt had relied completely on his descriptions of what he remembered from when Kayleigh helped him travel. If he had made a mistake or forgotten something crucial, it could have all gone horrifically wrong. Wes had panicked a little when they’d arrived at the coffee shop from which Blaine would travel again. After a few words from Blaine, he had calmed down, his fear Blaine would get hurt fading upon Blaine’s reminder of how much Kurt meant to him, and how he was willing to risk everything for happiness and love.

Kurt was staring at him silently again. Blaine took the opportunity to move his left hand from Kurt’s thigh to his arm, his neck, his waist, his cheekbone; caressing every inch of Kurt’s body he could reach. He desperately wanted to embrace Kurt again, to wrap his arms around his body and hold him close. But he also wanted to curl up into Kurt’s side and be held by him, to tuck his face into the curve of Kurt’s neck and feel his strong hands on his body. He had to hold back the urge to do either of these things, knowing Kurt was still trying to comprehend him being there.

The shock and disbelief that had been frozen on Kurt’s face since he’d opened the door were fading. The hope and wondrous awe were still there, growing ever stronger the longer he and Blaine gazed at each other.

“What made you come back?” Kurt asked curiously, barely supressed hope in his voice.

“I- Almost as soon as I arrived back in that time I realized I’d made a mistake.” Blaine’s left hand came to a rest against Kurt’s neck, his thumb caressing the spot where his jaw flowed into his neck. Kurt was gazing down at him, his eyes shining with tears. “I couldn’t live in a time where I couldn’t be who I was, making myself miserable trying to please parents who don’t really care about me. Everything I’d gone back for – it wasn’t there; it’s all here.” He swallowed thickly. “I’m just sorry I had to hurt you to realise this is where I belong.”

Kurt’s face softened. “Blaine,” he murmured. He let go of Blaine’s hand and framed his face with both of his hands, holding his gaze. “All that matters is that you’re here now.” He gave a small, wry smile. “The rest is in the past.”

Blaine returned the smile, trying desperately not to cry. “I won’t leave you like that again,” he promised. “This is where I belong, with you. This is where my heart is.”

Kurt’s face crumpled with emotion and he made a small noise, like a little desperate whimper. He darted forward and crushed his mouth against Blaine’s, one hand sliding round from Blaine’s face to tangle in the curls at the back of his neck. Blaine reached for Kurt’s body, wanting to hold him close, but instead ended up with a handful of his shirt, which he clutched tightly. He whined softly into Kurt’s mouth, curling his fingers tighter around his shirt when Kurt traced his lower lip with his tongue. He could feel his heart, absent for so long, nothing more than a gaping hole in his chest, swelling with love and happiness and belonging.

“I love you,” Blaine breathed when they broke apart, foreheads tilted together and gasping for breath. “I never told you before and I hated that; I regretted it every day I was gone. I love you, Kurt.”

Kurt huffed a delighted laugh against Blaine’s lips, his thumb softly rubbing the back of Blaine’s neck. “I love you, too.”

Tears spilled from Blaine’s eyes and the muscles in his face ached from his wide smile. He never thought it was possible for him to be this happy, even the short time before when he’d thought he was staying in Kurt’s time he hadn’t been this deliriously, wonderfully happy. He’d always felt there was a deadline on their time together, lingering just out of reach. There was no sense of that now, and it was wonderful. He felt like he could do anything; he felt invincible.

“Blaine,” Kurt breathed, brushing trembling lips against Blaine’s. Blaine pressed back against Kurt’s mouth, kissing harder. He smiled when Kurt laughed against his mouth, his heart leaping at the sound. He wondered if he’d ever sad again; right now it seemed impossible.

“Let’s go to bed,” Kurt whispered once they’d stopped kissing. “Rachel will be home soon and I’d rather- I want to keep you to myself tonight,” he said, his thumb caressing the back of Blaine’s neck again.

Blaine nodded. “Ok,” he agreed. If he was being honest, he wasn’t really in the mood to explain everything to Rachel or answer all of the questions she would surely have. He would much rather spend a night curled up with Kurt at his side, falling asleep to the sound of his breathing.

Kurt gently disentangled himself from Blaine and stood up, tugging Blaine up with him by the hand he was still holding. Blaine followed behind him in silence as Kurt led the way through to his bedroom.

The room was exactly as Blaine remembered: Kurt’s creams and lotions stood on the dressing table, swatches of fabric and rough sketches of designs were stuck around the edge of his mirror where he could ponder them as he went through his moisturising regimen, the latest issue of Vogue lay on his nightstand, and the same trinkets and framed photographs were displayed on other surfaces. The room still smelled the same way as well: Kurt’s creams, hairspray, the fragrance he wore, and the unique, indescribable scent that clung to Kurt’s skin. Blaine inhaled deeply as Kurt nudged the door closed behind them.

Kurt turned to face him, dropping his hand and resting his hands on Blaine’s shoulders. “You’re wearing the bowtie,” he said softly.

Blaine glanced down. “Oh, yes. I couldn’t leave it behind.” He looked back up and met Kurt’s eyes. “Thank you for giving it to me before I left; it helped a lot when I- When I missed you too much.”

Kurt nodded and, saying nothing, reached down and pulled the pocket watch out of his pocket. Blaine took it from his hand and set it aside on the dresser. 

“We don’t need to rely on these anymore. We don’t need to live on memories now.”

Kurt kissed him again, his hands tugging at Blaine’s bowtie, untying it, and then pulling it free from his collar, before tossing it aside. Blaine smoothed his hands over the muscles of Kurt’s back, remembering their firmness and the feel of them bunching and releasing beneath his palms. His hat was knocked to the floor as Kurt’s hand moved to his hair. He made a small noise of frustration at the amount of gel in it and Blaine grinned upon hearing it.

“I missed this,” Blaine sighed, pressing kisses to any part of Kurt’s face he could reach.

Kurt pushed Blaine’s jacket off his shoulders and tossed it over a nearby armchair. He placed a quick kiss to Blaine’s lips. “No more talk of that now; no more reminiscing, or talk of being apart. I want us to just be together and forget about everything else tonight.”

“Ok,” Blaine said again, brushing a kiss to the spot between Kurt’s eyebrows. “Ok.”

They undressed silently, Blaine hesitating before unbuttoning his pants, wondering if he should make a quick trip down the hall to his old room to grab some clothes to sleep in.

The thought that Kurt may not have kept his stuff held him back from doing so, and the sight of Kurt tossing his own clothes over the stool at his dresser and padding towards the bed in only his boxer briefs encouraged him to finish undressing without any more worries of what he’d wear. He was still a little shy about being so underdressed around Kurt. But Kurt loved him, he reminded himself as he folded his pants and set them aside with the rest of his clothes; he didn’t have to be embarrassed or nervous around him.

Kurt pulled back the covers on the bed, tossed the decorative cushions off to the side, and then turned to smile at Blaine, who bit his lip at the sight of his pale, toned chest and stomach.

“I’m just going to quickly brush my teeth,” Kurt said, nodding towards the bathroom. “There’s a toothbrush in there you can use.”

Blaine nodded and followed Kurt through to the bathroom where they stood side-by-side at the sink, brushing their teeth and shooting glances at each other in the mirror. Blaine’s heart soared with each one.

Back in the bedroom, Blaine found himself hesitating again as he stood beside Kurt’s bed. The tiny flutter of nerves holding him back vanished when Kurt crawled eagerly beneath the covers and gazed up at him with soft, inviting eyes, his hand stretched out towards him. Blaine got into bed, letting out an involuntary sigh at the feel of the soft bedding and the comforting scent that enveloped him. He slid over to Kurt, who snuggled into him happily, his hand settling on his side over the curve of his ribcage.

“This all feels like a dream,” Blaine whispered. “I keep waiting to wake up and find myself back in my parent’s house knowing that-” He gulped, his throat now thick with the tears that had pooled in his eyes again and were now spilling down his cheeks. “Knowing that-” he tried again, the thought of the life he had just escaped overwhelming him, choking up his throat and making it near impossible to speak.

Kurt placed a hand on his cheek. “Shh.” He wiped away the tears clinging to Blaine’s face, swiping them gently with the pad of his thumb. “Blaine,” he said softly, as Blaine’s breath hitched in a sob. “We don’t have to talk about this now. We’re not talking about it tonight.” He brushed his thumb over the delicate skin beneath Blaine’s eyes, wiping away the last of the tears. “We will talk about it tomorrow. Tonight I just want us to be together; to enjoy being with each other again.”

Swallowing down the lump of sadness and relief in his throat, Blaine nodded. He tilted his head and nuzzled into the palm of Kurt’s hand. So, so unbelievably grateful he was with his love once more. Kurt kissed Blaine’s forehead, his lips lingering for a moment, before he drew back and rested his head on the pillow again. His hand was still cupping Blaine’s face, his thumb still stroking rhythmically over his cheekbone. Blaine felt his eyelids drooping. An exhausting day like the one he’d just had would normally have been just enough to send him to sleep without wallowing in misery over the loss of Kurt; tonight the tiredness and being back in Kurt’s bed filled him with a drowsy peace and, despite his attempts to stay awake so he could gaze at Kurt, he soon fell asleep.

 

~ * ~

Kurt woke to a sight he’d been dreaming of, one he’d never thought he’d see again: Blaine sleeping next to him. It almost made him cry, seeing Blaine lying beside him, his body curled to fit against his own, but he managed to hold back the emotions rising up inside him, pressing on his lungs and choking up his throat. 

Blaine shifted slightly in his sleep, moving closer to Kurt and nuzzling his nose against Kurt’s shoulder. Kurt admired the way his long, dark eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks and how the morning sunlight picked out lighter streaks in his hair that were almost the exact color of hot chocolate. It almost made his heart ache how beautiful Blaine was.

He knew he should feel slightly creepy and intrusive staring at Blaine as he slept, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away. He missed this – missed Blaine – so much so that not watching him during this moment felt like a waste. Now that he knew how precious time could be and what it was like to lose Blaine, he wouldn’t ever take any time with him for granted again; he was going to savor every second with him.

Sometime later, when the light shining into the room was a little bit stronger and Kurt felt a little less drowsy, Blaine woke up. He stirred, rubbing his cheek against Kurt’s shoulder, his forehead creasing into a tiny frown, before his eyes blinked open. He looked confused at first, but his perplexity was swiftly replaced by relief. When his eyes lifted to meet Kurt’s he was smiling; he looked deliriously happy.

“Good morning,” he said softly, his voice roughened slightly by sleep.

Kurt reached out and smoothed the curls that had broken free of the gel overnight back off his forehead. “Good morning.”

They gazed at each other in silence, drinking the sight of each other in. Blaine’s eyes were a soft, honeyed gold, looking at Kurt with such adoration and wonder it tugged at Kurt’s heart, making it impossible for him not to reach out and touch him. He ducked down and pressed a kiss to Blaine’s nose, making a truly gorgeous smile crinkle up the other man’s eyes.

“I love you,” Blaine said, his hand finding Kurt’s beneath the blankets.

Kurt kissed him again, this time on the mouth, kissing him soft, slow, and deep. He squeezed Blaine’s hand gently. When they broke apart, Kurt rested his forehead against Blaine’s, wanting to stay close to him, to stay close enough to feel his warm breath on his cheek.

“Every day we were apart I knew I had made a mistake by leaving here,” Blaine murmured. Kurt tightened his grip on his hand. “It hurt so much not being able to see you, and knowing I never could. I had the stars and the bowtie, but they could never ease the pain. I even wrote you letters – wait.”

Letting go of his hand, Blaine untangled himself from Kurt and slid out of bed. Sitting up, Kurt watched with a mixture of surprise and curiosity as Blaine searched through the pockets of his jacket. He returned to the bed carrying a sheaf of neatly-folded paper. Once he was seated next to Kurt again, he handed him the papers.

“I wrote you a letter every time I wanted to talk to you but couldn’t,” he said, watching apprehensively as Kurt unfolded the papers and looked down at the top page of Blaine’s handwriting. “It helped with the distance, somehow; made me feel like I was connected to you, more so than looking at the stars did.”

Kurt traced the letters of his name with his fingers, following the curving path Blaine had made with his pen. He couldn’t believe Blaine had done this. While he had been typing out emails to him, Blaine himself had been penning letters to him. He couldn’t believe they’d had the exact same idea of a way to cope with being apart. The memory of Rachel’s voice spoke up in his mind: ‘soulmates’.

“Blaine,” he breathed, lost for words. 

Blaine dropped his gaze down to his hands where they rested on top of the bed covers. “I know it was silly, writing letters to someone who would never read them, but they really did-”

Kurt covered one of Blaine’s hands with his own. “Blaine,” he said again, cutting off the other man’s rambling. “It’s not silly at all.” He smiled encouragingly at him. “I did the same thing, actually.”

Blaine’s head jerked up, his eyes wide with surprise. “You wrote-?”

“I wrote you emails, actually,” Kurt admitted. “Not quite as romantic as your letters, but I thought they would be easier to keep from Rachel. I wanted them to be private.”

Blaine was shaking his head. “Kurt, that doesn’t- Emails or letters – it doesn’t matter. The fact that we both wrote-” He broke off, apparently unable to voice what he was thinking.

Kurt nodded. “I know.”

They gazed at each other for a long moment, smiling softly, content and peaceful, not a line of worry or frown of stress on either of their faces. Kurt would be quite happy to spend the rest of the day in bed, just looking at Blaine and touching him, being constantly, wonderfully reminded that Blaine was really here, that they were together once more.

Blaine made a small happy noise in his throat and lifted his hand to run his fingers through Kurt’s hair. Kurt hummed at his touch, his eyes slipping closed at the feeling. Yes, he could quite easily not move for the rest of the day.

“Kurt?” Rachel’s voice shouted from outside the room.

Kurt and Blaine both jumped, and Kurt cursed silently; he had forgotten they weren’t entirely alone.

“Are you awake?” Rachel asked through the door, no longer shouting. “I’ve made coffee!”

Kurt bit back a frustrated sigh. “I’ll be through in a minute,” he called back.

Once he’d heard Rachel’s footsteps walk away, he turned back to Blaine. “I kind of wanted to avoid telling Rachel you were back,” he admitted. “Just for another day or two.” He kissed Blaine and rubbed at his collarbone with his thumb. “I wanted you to myself for longer – I’m selfish like that.”

Blaine smirked at him. “I don’t mind hiding until she’s gone to work. It’s for a good cause.”

“Mmm,” Kurt hummed, smoothing his hand from Blaine’s collarbone down towards his belly, smirking at the hitch in his breathing. “Too bad she’s perceptive and would notice how happy I am.” He rubbed his hand over the soft curve of Blaine’s belly.

“We’ll have to just show her why you’re so happy then,” Blaine said, his voice coming out shaky and breathy as Kurt continued to trace the lines of his belly and chest with his fingers.

Kurt heaved a sigh. “Guess we will.” He kissed Blaine once more, then withdrew his hand. “Let’s get the shrieking over with.” He reluctantly moved away from Blaine and got out of bed, padding through to the bathroom with a little yawn.

He returned from the bathroom to find Blaine hadn’t moved at all and was still in bed with a dreamy smile on his face. 

“Blaine,” he said affectionately, taking some pyjama pants and a t-shirt from his dresser and pulling them on. “You have to get up, honey.”

Sighing dramatically, Blaine got out of bed. He grumbled under his breath as he shuffled through to the bathroom, tossing Kurt a grin as he passed him. 

While Blaine brushed his teeth, Kurt hurried through to his old bedroom and took some pants and a shirt out the dresser for him, positively swelling with happiness as he did so. Rachel had hesitantly suggested that he clear out Blaine’s belongings once; he was glad he’d never done it.

Blaine looked a little surprised when Kurt handed him the bundle of clothes. 

“You kept all of my things?” he asked, taking the clothes and smoothing a hand over the folded shirt on the top of the pile.

“Of course I did,” Kurt said. “I could never have thrown them out.”

Blaine lifted his gaze to meet his, holding it for a long, poignant moment, before beginning to get dressed. “Thank you,” he said simply.

They held hands as they left Kurt’s room and followed the sounds of Rachel’s humming through to the kitchen. As they neared the kitchen, Kurt braced himself for the onslaught of questions and shrieks of surprise and disbelief. 

Rachel was looking down at her phone and didn’t see them at first. She didn’t look up when she heard their footsteps, too engrossed in whatever she was reading on the little screen. 

“Coffee’s out, Kurt,” she informed him, scrolling down her phone’s screen with her thumb. 

Deciding it would be best to get it all out straight away, Kurt led Blaine over to the table where Rachel was sitting and came to a stop. 

“I hope you made enough for Blaine, as well.”

“For-?” Rachel looked up from her phone, her brows knitted together in confusion. Her gaze landed on Blaine – her eyes widened and features stretched out in shock. For a moment she simply gaped at them, then-

“Blaine!”

Kurt winced as Rachel let out a piercing shriek. Shoving back her chair, she flew round the table and threw herself at Blaine, squealing in excited surprise as she tugged him from Kurt’s grasp and spun him around in a circle.

Blaine stumbled slightly when she let him go. “It’s good to see you, too, Rachel,” he gasped.

“I can’t believe you’re- How are you- Blaine!” Rachel pulled him into a tight hug again.

Kurt watched on in fond amusement. “I think you’re suffocating him, Rach,” he said. He gently extracted Blaine from her grasp, linking their hands again. 

Stepping back to look at the pair of them, Rachel beamed. “I knew you’d come back!” She bounced slightly on the spot in her excitement. “I knew it!”

Kurt glanced sideways at Blaine. He was smiling at Rachel, his eyes warm and happy. Feeling his gaze on him, Blaine started to turn his head to look at Kurt, but before their eyes met, Rachel grabbed Blaine’s free hand and began tugging him over to the table.

“Come on,” she said, pulling out a chair for him to sit on. “How did you get back here? I want to know everything.” She dropped down in the chair opposite Blaine and stared at him expectantly.

While Blaine told Rachel the story of how he returned, Kurt fetched them all coffee. He sat down next to Blaine with his mug and, rather than listen to him answer Rachel’s questions, he watched him speak. He looked so right sitting in their kitchen with bed-ruffled hair and dressed in pyjamas. He looked like he belonged – he was as much a part of Kurt’s home as Rachel was. If it weren’t for the fact that he kept drawing Kurt’s eye and that the sight of him filled him with joyous relief and wonder each time, it would be as if he’d never left. 

As Blaine’s voice filled the room, Kurt’s spirit and heart soared. He couldn’t believe Blaine had really come back here, and had done it mostly for him. He knew now that Blaine would always come back to him. As hope had filled him whilst watching fireworks burst color in the sky, he’d come to know how much Blaine loved him and how much they meant to each other. Even though they’d never said it explicitly to each other at that point, he’d known it was true; he’d just never been confident enough in himself to realise it before then. But he knew now.

As Blaine paused in his talking to take a sip of coffee, Kurt took hold of his left hand where it rested on his thigh, linking their fingers together once more. Blaine caught his eye and smiled around his mouthful of coffee, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

They knew now.


	21. Chapter 21

“It’s funny – we could have almost been replying to each other,” Kurt said, setting aside one of the letters Blaine had written and starting to read the next one. “We’ve answered each other’s questions a few times.”

Looking up from the laptop on which he was reading Kurt’s emails to him, Blaine smiled. “We must have subconsciously known what the other was thinking about.”

Kurt hummed in response, his attention focused on the letter again. Blaine covered his hand with his own. Kurt looked up to find Blaine frowning down at the letter in his hands. 

He met Kurt’s gaze, his brow still furrowed. “I think I’d better explain something before you read any further.”

The seriousness of his tone had Kurt shifting his body to face his, concern rising inside him. “What is it?”

Blaine licked his lips, looking uncomfortable. “When- Not long before I came back here my parents gave me a ring.”

“A ring?” Kurt repeated blankly. Then he understood; there was only one kind of ring Blaine’s parents would give him, and only one kind of ring that would make him look sick to his stomach. “Oh.”

Blaine nodded, looking horribly distant. “They requested I propose marriage to Anna – you know who Anna is, don’t you?” he asked, his gaze focusing on Kurt again. When Kurt nodded, he continued, “By this time I knew I wanted to come back here and was determined to do so, so I delayed it as much as I could. It frustrated my parents and they were becoming suspicious, but I kept putting it off as much as I could-”

In his head, Kurt put together Blaine’s words and his distressed, almost ill expression. “Wait,” he interrupted, feeling something close to panic unfolding inside of him, “you didn’t get engaged to her, did you?”

Blaine’s eyes widened, his expression clearing. “Oh, no! No, no, no.” He patted Kurt’s hand reassuringly. “No, I managed to return here before I was cornered into proposing. It was a close escape, though.”

Relaxing, Kurt breathed out in relief. He didn’t know what he’d do or how he’d feel if Blaine was engaged to someone – and a girl nonetheless – back in his own time, even if that engagement would now technically be irrelevant. “Okay. That’s good.”

“My parents had arranged for myself and Anna to have lunch at my father’s country club the day after I came here,” Blaine continued. “My father essentially threatened me; saying I’d better propose to her over lunch, or else.”

Kurt gaped at him. “He said that?”

“I’m so glad I got back here when I did. There’s no way I could have-” Blaine shook his head. “I just wanted you to know about this.” He glanced down at the letters in Kurt’s lap. “I mentioned it in the letters, but I wanted to explain it to you.” He rubbed Kurt’s hand with his thumb, his expression turning almost pleading, like he was begging Kurt to believe him. “Nothing happened between Anna and I. I thought only of you in the time we were together.”

Frowning at his tone of voice and the desperate look in his eyes, Kurt cupped Blaine’s face with his free hand. “Blaine, I know,” he said softly. “It’s okay.” He rubbed soothingly over Blaine’s cheekbone. “You’ve done nothing wrong, honey.”

Blaine closed his eyes and leaned into Kurt’s touch. Smiling softly, Kurt continued to caress Blaine’s face, content to sit in silence while Blaine calmed down. He knew that while Blaine was happy and sure of spending his life in this time, it was still a big upheaval for him. It had been a tough decision for him, choosing to leave behind the world and people he knew, and these first few days would be the most difficult for him as he came to terms with how his life had changed. Kurt made a vow to help Blaine adjust to the change. He would do everything he could for the man he loved.

“Even if I had wanted to marry Anna I could never have proposed to her in that way,” Blaine said quietly, surprising Kurt out of his thoughts. He looked back down at Blaine just in time to see the other man’s eyes open. “I would never want to be forced into a proposal. I would want the moment to be special and just between the two of us; not something planned by my parents.”

“You know, gay marriage is legal in New York,” Kurt blurted without thinking. 

Blaine stared at him, his hand stiffening on top of Kurt’s. He stared until Kurt’s cheeks darkened in a blush and he ducked his head to look down at the letters in his lap, taking his hand away from Blaine’s face. He internally cursed his careless mouth. What was he even meaning in saying that?

It felt like ages before Blaine finally responded, finally reacted in some way to Kurt’s sudden, thoughtless announcement. It was long enough that Kurt’s blush had spread down to his neck and that his insides had begun to curl in on themselves in embarrassment. 

“I remember,” Blaine said softly in a voice barely louder than a whisper. “You told me that before.”

Hearing him caused Kurt’s embarrassment to recede and he finally dared to look up, the pinkness fading from his face. 

Blaine’s face was soft and his gaze looked almost hopeful. “I’ve always wanted to get married,” he said. His voice held the breathy quality of someone confessing a deep secret, one they held close to their heart and never thought they’d be able to reveal. “I never thought it would be possible. I never thought I’d be able to have the marriage I dreamed of: a husband to come home to and a matching ring that symbolised our eternal love to wear proudly.”

Kurt smiled fondly at him and squeezed his hand. “You’ll get your dreams,” he told him, without really thinking about what he was promising. “All of them. You’re not asking for much – love, acceptance, happiness.”

“That’s a lot to some people,” Blaine replied. “It’s a lot to me. I didn’t think any of that was attainable.”

Kurt chastised himself for his careless words. He’d never really thought about how much he took for granted. While he’d struggled for acceptance in high school he’d always known it would get better once he got out of Lima and he’d always had it at home. He’d sometimes had his doubts about falling in love, but deep down he knew he’d experience it at some point. As for happiness, he already had that. He hadn’t thought about Blaine and so many others who could barely hope to achieve one of those before he’d spoken. 

Before he could say anything about this, could apologise for being tactless, Blaine smiled at him.

“I can see now that my dreams are possible,” he said. “I’m already living most of them.” His gaze was so full of adoration that it made it difficult for Kurt to breathe.

Taking in a shuddering breath, Kurt eventually lowered his gaze back to the letters on his lap. “Wes helped you get back here?”

Kurt felt rather than saw Blaine nod. “Yeah, it was painful for both of us, knowing we would never see each other again, but he wanted me to come back here, almost as much as I did; he knew it was for the best.”

Kurt glanced up at Blaine when he paused, finding him looking down at the letters, his expression difficult to read. “He was going to tell my parents that I ran away to start a new life in another state.”

With a lurch of his stomach, Kurt remembered the newspaper articles Rachel had told him about that covered Blaine’s disappearance. The final article about him reported the police concluding Blaine had moved away and started a whole new life. 

“It’s true, in a way,” Kurt murmured. 

Blaine nodded. A tiny frown appeared on his face, before smoothing out just as quickly as it came. He met Kurt’s eyes again.

“I’m not upset that I left and I certainly don’t regret it,” he said, obviously feeling the need to clarify this. “I was truly miserable in that time. I know it’s wrong, but I won’t miss my parents at all; I’m glad they’re out of my life.”

“That’s not wrong,” Kurt assured him. “With the way they treated you – it sounded like they didn’t really care for you, Blaine; not for your happiness, anyway.”

“They didn’t,” Blaine agreed bluntly. “But it doesn’t matter. They’ve never really been there for me.” He rested his free hand on Kurt’s arm, stroking it through his sweater. “I’m gaining far more than I’m losing.”

That evening while Blaine was in the shower, Kurt called his dad. He couldn’t wait to tell him there was no need for him to worry about him anymore; that his time travelling boyfriend was back for good and he was no longer miserable and cursing fate. 

“Hey, buddy,” his dad greeted. “How’s everything?”

For the first time in the weeks that his dad had been asking him that question, Kurt smiled. He finally had a positive response, one which made him beyond happy.

“I’m great, dad,” he replied. “Everything changed for the better yesterday and I’m just-” He looked around his bedroom, lit brightly by lamps and his joyous mood, searching for the words to describe how utterly euphoric he was. “I can’t believe how quickly my life has turned around again.”

There was a short pause, broken only by the soft buzzing of the connection sounding through the phone, and then his dad spoke. 

“Kurt, what are you talking about?” He sounded cautious, like he was afraid of believing Kurt’s happiness too quickly and having his own hopes dashed when Kurt fell back into a state of despair. 

Kurt’s eyes landed on Blaine’s jacket draped over the back of the chair in his room. His smile widened. “He came back, dad. Blaine came back.”

There was another pause, this one so long Kurt pulled the phone away from his ear to check the connection hadn’t been lost. “Dad?”

“Blaine…came back?” his dad repeated slowly. 

“Yeah, he-” Kurt had to sit down on the edge of the bed; his legs were shaking too much. “He realised he’d made a mistake and got some people to help him come…” Kurt trailed off, realising something. “You- You do believe me, don’t you, dad?”

“Kurt, I-”

Holding his breath, Kurt stared fixedly at Blaine’s jacket – solid, physical proof he was really here. His dad thought he was delusional; that he’d finally cracked; his despair and desperate, fruitless wishes finally warping into the belief he had Blaine back. His dad didn’t believe Blaine could come back, just as Kurt hadn’t done until New Year’s – but he was back. Blaine was here. His jacket hung on the back of the chair, his scent clung to Kurt’s sheets, and the sounds of him showering escaped through the crack beneath the bathroom door. He was here.

Kurt gripped the phone tighter as his dad spoke again.

“When did he come back?” he asked in a measured voice; carefully choosing his words, placating Kurt rather than truly believing him. 

In spite of everything, Kurt smiled again. “Yesterday. He came back yesterday evening.” He readjusted his grip on his phone. “You should come over and meet him.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” his dad agreed. “I’ll book flights for sometime in the week. I’ll call you when I have the times.”

Kurt nodded. “Okay.” He paused, wanting to say something else, something to prove Blaine was really here and not just a figment of his imagination, a projection of his loss. He thought briefly about having Blaine speak to his dad, but in the end he decided it would be best if he just waited until his visit. That would set things straight once and for all. 

“I love you, dad,” he said instead.

“I love you, too, buddy. I’ll call you with those times, okay?”

When the call ended, Kurt tossed his phone aside on the bed and buried his face in his hands. His dad didn’t believe him. He thought Kurt had gotten worse in the short time since they had last spoken, despite Kurt starting to feel and sound happier.

The bed dipped next to him and he lifted his head to see Blaine sitting there, his hair damp and curly from the shower, his brow knitted together with concern. 

“What’s wrong?”

Sighing, Kurt waved a hand at his phone. “My dad doesn’t believe you’re here. He thinks I’ve gone crazy and I’m only imagining you.”

Blaine’s eyes widened in disbelief, his expression turning indignant. “What? How can he not believe you?”

Kurt lifted his shoulders in a small shrug. “I didn’t exactly cope well with you being gone,” he admitted. “I guess he thought it affected me badly enough for me to lose my mind, in a way.”

Blaine stared at him, too shocked to say anything.

Kurt shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. He’s coming out to visit soon to meet you. He’ll see the truth then.”

Nodding slowly, Blaine looked down at where his hand rested on Kurt’s thigh. “I didn’t think your dad was like that,” he said quietly.

“He’s just worried about me, that’s all. Has been ever since I told him everything that was going on.”

Looking over and seeing the frown lines still between Blaine’s pinched eyebrows, Kurt leaned over and kissed the spot softly. Blaine looked up, his frown smoothing out.

“It’ll be okay,” Kurt told him. “He’ll meet you soon and he won’t have to worry anymore.”

Despite Kurt’s assurance, Blaine still remained troubled for the rest of the evening. Though he never said anything about it and would appear unworried to most people, Kurt could tell by his long silences and the shadow in his eyes that something was still bothering him. 

He waited until they were in bed to ask about it. They had come to a mutual, unspoken agreement to share a bed again. Kurt had no desire for Blaine to go back to sleeping in his old room and Blaine seemed in no hurry to sleep elsewhere, so Kurt didn’t mention it. After so long without Blaine he wanted him beside him as much as possible. 

Once the light was off and they were cuddled together with their legs tangled and breaths intermingling, Kurt searched Blaine’s face with concern.

“Are you okay?” he asked, rubbing Blaine’s ribs with his thumb through the soft cotton of his sleep shirt.

Blaine looked back at him silently and for a second or two Kurt thought he was going to deny there was anything wrong, but then his expression shifted, a tiny frown line appearing between his eyebrows.

“Are we still boyfriends?” he asked nervously, his voice small. “I know we never exactly broke up, but-”

Kurt cut him off with a soft kiss. “Of course we are, silly,” he breathed against Blaine’s lips. “We never let each other go.”

Sliding his hand up Kurt’s back, Blaine closed the sliver of space between them, pressing their mouths together again in a smoldering kiss. Kurt’s thumb ceased its caressing of Blaine’s side, his hand curling around his waist instead, drawing the other man closer so that Blaine’s burning skin pressed against his own. His mouth opened under the touch of Blaine’s lips to his own, groaning softly in the back of his throat when their tongues traced each other.

There was fire in Kurt’s stomach, fire that burned through his veins and made his muscles tremble and shiver with desire. He’d felt this fire before when they’d kissed, but he’d always managed to contain it, to keep it in a controlled ball of heat in his belly – but, tonight, Blaine was burning with him. 

Heat hung heavy in the air around them, making sweat bead on the curve of Kurt’s lower back and Blaine pant against the sensitive skin of Kurt’s neck as he trailed kisses down from his jaw. Every reminder that Kurt had pinned up inside his mind reminding himself that Blaine was inexperienced and probably lacking in knowledge, reminders that had made him control the fire in the past, dissolved into ashes. Desire, lust, and love burned through him, making him crave – need – to be closer, to feel more of Blaine, to taste more of him.

He slipped a hand underneath Blaine’s shirt, smoothing over his burning skin where a thin sheet of sweat was already forming, and palmed desperately at his belly in an effort to curb his cravings. When it wasn’t enough, he reached for the hem of Blaine’s t-shirt, tugging at it and making a small noise of approval when Blaine’s hands pushed his away and he pulled his own shirt off. Before Blaine could even reach for Kurt’s shirt, Kurt tugged it over his head and tossed it aside. He eagerly pressed back up against Blaine, sighing happily at the feeling of their bare skin pressed together.

Kurt’s lips found Blaine’s again. “I love you,” he gasped into his mouth, smiling when Blaine linked their fingers together over his wildly thumping heart.

Blaine’s breath was coming in short, erratic pants; his pupils were blown wide and dark, nearly eradicating his golden hazel irises, and his hair was all ruffled curls where Kurt had run his hands through it. He melded his lips to Kurt’s like a parched man tasting water for the first time in weeks, savoring his boyfriend’s taste and doing his best to commit it to memory. 

Blaine relished in the silky slipslide of his lips against Kurt's until his need for air combined with the insurmountable sensory overload of pleasure he found being bestowed upon him at the moment became too much. He tipped his head back, inhaling and letting out a rough groan as Kurt kissed at his nowexposed throat, nipping gently at the soft skin with his teeth until Blaine clutched at him, needing more.

Kurt sucked eagerly at his boyfriend's neck, spurred on by Blaine's responses, until he was satisfied with the mark. He pulled his lips off briefly before tenderly licking and nipping at the forming hickey, earning him a rather wrecked groan from Blaine. Kurt shifted again, graceful in the heat of the moment, and touched his lips to the other man's kiss-swollen ones.

“I love you, too,” Blaine breathed out as their lips parted, his eyes locking on Kurt’s and his free hand tracing the length of Kurt’s spine lovingly. Tendrils of pleasure licked down his slender body, making the taller boy’s toes curl. 

For a moment, the fire and its heat hung still and tender between and within them, more warmth than blaze, but then Blaine shifted slightly, his hips moving closer to Kurt’s, and sparks shot through Kurt, fueling the fire once more.

The taller boy let a needy whimper escape as he crawled forwards, his hands flying to trail across the heated skin of Blaine’s stomach. With the smallest little tilt of Kurt’s hips downward, he rubbed fleetingly against Blaine, and the pleasure of contact was exhilarating, yet not nearly enough at the same time.

“Kurt,” Blaine whined, his hips lifting to meet his boyfriend’s above him, searching for more pressure. Kurt moaned at the feel of him, hard in his boxer briefs.

Blood and desire pulsed through Kurt’s head, making it near impossible for him to think straight. He wanted Blaine, and it was obvious Blaine wanted him just as badly, but Blaine was going purely on instinct, chasing whatever felt good; Kurt wasn’t sure that his boyfriend really knew what it was exactly that he wanted.

Blaine’s hand slipped out of Kurt’s and he fumbled for Kurt’s waistband. His eyes, nearly all of their beautiful gold-hazel colour swallowed by his pupils, were filled with lust, love, and trust. Perhaps Blaine didn’t know what he was asking for as he pawed at Kurt’s pants and rolled their hips together, but he trusted Kurt to give him what he needed.

Placing his hands on top of Blaine’s, Kurt helped his boyfriend guide his pants down until he had to finish removing them himself. He took the opportunity to take in Blaine’s body as he leaned back to toss them out of the way. His eyes ran over Blaine’s heaving chest with its dusting of dark hair and his toned stomach with the sharp line of his hipbones drawing the eye down to where his erection strained against his underwear. He leaned down to kiss Blaine again, tilting his head to deepen it and making it as tender as he could while his body screamed for hot, desperate passion.

“You are so beautiful, B,” he said once he pulled back. He felt Blaine’s hand caress his hip in response as his eyes softened. He ran a hand through Blaine’s hair as he got up on his knees and shifted so he could reach the nightstand. “Let me know if you want to stop. It’s okay if you’re not ready yet.” He pulled open the nightstand drawer and fumbled around until his fingers closed around a bottle of lubricant. He dropped it on the bed next to them and settled back down over Blaine, careful to keep their hips apart for a moment. At Blaine’s questioning look, he shook his head. “No questions tonight. If it’s alright with you, I want tonight to just be about us and not- not the mechanics of things. I’ll tell you everything you want to know tomorrow, but tonight- tonight I just want it to be us – if you trust me.”

Blaine took his hand and rubbed his thumb softly over Kurt’s knuckles. “I trust you,” he said.

Smiling, Kurt leaned down to kiss him again, breathing out softly against Blaine’s cheek as he brushed their lips together, softly at first, until Blaine started squirming beneath him and it became near impossible to hold back his own burning need for more.

Reaching down, he tugged at the waistband of Blaine’s briefs, continuing to press open-mouthed kisses to his jawline and neck, paying special attention to his earlier mark, before sliding them off, smiling slightly when Blaine lifted his hips to help him. He was tempted to look down, but he fought the urge, brushing one last butterfly-soft kiss beneath where Blaine’s eyelashes fluttered against his cheek, before pulling his own underwear off. Slowly, he lowered his hips to Blaine’s again.

They both moaned, Blaine panting slightly against Kurt’s neck. Kurt rolled his hips down, gripping Blaine’s hand tightly at the feel of Blaine’s hard length pressed against his own. He thrust his hips down again, only this time Blaine’s hips jerked up to meet his.

“K- Kurt,” Blaine gasped, his free hand finding Kurt’s hip, gripping the flesh in a way Kurt was sure would bruise as their hips thrust together again.

Kurt threw out a hand in search for the bottle of lube, and he opened his mouth to say something, anything, in response, but he seemed to have the lost the ability to make any noise that wasn’t an expression of pleasure.

He opened the cap and untangled his other hand from Blaine’s, squeezing out some of the silky liquid onto his fingers. He warmed it in his hand, finally looking down at where Blaine’s cock, thick and flushed at the head, was pressed against his own. His breath hitched and more of the burning heat pooled and swirled in his belly, making his hips jerk involuntarily. He wrapped his lube-slick hand around both of their lengths and stroked a few times, making Blaine groan, low and rough, and his own body quiver with pleasure. 

He wiped his hand off on the sheets and leaned back down to kiss at Blaine’s neck.

They rocked together, the slickness making it easier and so much better. The sheets pooled around Kurt’s sweaty thighs, clinging to his skin, and the heat in the room made his hair fall in limp locks over his forehead. Their desperate moans and gasps filled the air and the bed rocked slightly as their thrusts quickened, both of them chasing their escalating pleasure.

Blaine reached his peak first, his body tensing up beneath Kurt’s before he spilled, hot and wet, onto his own stomach with Kurt following soon afterwards, gasping Blaine’s name and dropping his forehead down into the crook of his neck. 

They lay there like that for a while, breath panting and bodies fizzing and singing with pleasure. The muscles in Kurt’s thighs quivered and his heart raced at a speed that felt almost too fast to be healthy, while Blaine’s hand found his again. He squeezed the other man’s hand gently, still too dazed to lift his head to look at his boyfriend.

When he recovered enough to notice the unpleasant stickiness between them, Kurt groaned softly and rolled off of Blaine, collapsing next to him. Blaine immediately shuffled in close, his nose brushing Kurt’s. Kurt opened his eyes and met Blaine’s sated, adoring honey gaze. They smiled at each other.

“I’m so in love with you, B,” Kurt whispered.

Blaine’s already heavy eyelids fluttered closed for a moment, like those words gave him so much bliss that he had to center himself and savor them. “I love you, too,” he said when he’d opened his eyes again. “You complete me.”

 

~ * ~

They entered the kitchen the next morning with their hands entwined and smiles on their faces. Blaine kept glancing over at Kurt, the memories of the night before vivid in his mind. His face warmed whenever Kurt caught him, and he honestly couldn’t remember a time when he had been happier. Since he’d arrived back in this time, he’d been a little bit uncertain about where he and Kurt were in terms of their relationship, but now that he’d heard Kurt say they were still together and they’d shown their love in the most intimate of ways, he was overjoyed. He was back in the time where he belonged with his love, and his future looked promising. He was almost delirious with joy.

“Good morning, lovebirds,” Rachel sang when she walked into the kitchen and saw them making coffee, their arms and hips brushing. “I’ve already been out this morning and invested in a pair of earplugs.” She plucked a small package from her purse and waved it at them. “I can’t go to sleep with my iPod on every night.”

Blaine had no idea what an iPod was, but he still understood what Rachel was saying. He blushed, ducking his head and shuffling even closer to Kurt.

Rachel patted him on the shoulder on her way to grab a mug. “Aw, don’t be embarrassed! Kurt’s had to put up with me and Finn, so it’s about time-”

“Okay!” Kurt cut her off, picking up his coffee and plate of toast. “Blaine doesn’t need to hear all the sordid details.”

Blaine shot Rachel a bashful smile, before picking up his own breakfast and scurrying after Kurt to sit at the table. 

Unfazed, Rachel turned to smile at them both. “I’m just glad to see you both so happy.” She glanced at the clock on the wall and took a big gulp of coffee. “I have to get to work soon.”

Kurt smiled smugly around a bite of toast. “I took the day off work – said I had something important in my personal life to see to – which, I do.” His gaze shifted to Blaine, who couldn’t help but smile.

Rachel inclined her head. “Good, you’ve been working too much lately; you need some time off.” She shot another look at the clock and took another hasty drink out of her mug.

They lapsed into silence: Kurt and Blaine eating their breakfast and brushing bare feet and ankles under the table, Rachel drinking her coffee. The second she finished her drink, Rachel set her mug in the sink and snatched up her purse from the counter.

“I’ll see you two later,” she said, shrugging on her coat and wrapping a scarf around her neck. She went to leave, but paused and spun back round to face them, apparently remembering something. “Not anywhere I have to sit or eat,” she warned.

Kurt raised an eyebrow in response, while Blaine watched Rachel march out of the apartment, feeling baffled. 

“What was that about?” he asked Kurt once the front door had closed behind her.

Kurt eyed him for a moment, before shaking his head, a smirk playing about the corners of his mouth. “Oh, nothing. Just Rachel being Rachel.”

Blaine frowned at him as he returned his attention to his breakfast, trying to figure out what he was missing, but eventually deciding to drop it. 

Burt called later that morning with the news that he would be visiting in two days time. A wave of nerves flooded Blaine’s stomach upon hearing this. He wasn’t sure how he would be received by Kurt’s father. He had been the one who had left Kurt and caused him all the pain and distress of the last few months. He’d also been the one to give Burt – or rather, Mr. Hummel – reason to be concerned about his son’s mental health. This could hardly put him in Burt’s good books.

Blaine worried obsessively in the days before Mr. Hummel’s arrival. Kurt spent a lot of time trying to calm and reassure him, but nothing he said could completely ease the nauseating cramping of his stomach. It only got worse the day Kurt was back at work, as he had hours by himself to stew over everything that could go wrong during the visit and all the reasons that Kurt’s father had to dislike him.

On the morning of Mr. Hummel’s visit, Blaine woke early after a restless night and sat rigid in bed waiting for Kurt to wake up. He got himself worked up into such a nervous, panicky state that Kurt took one look at him when he opened his eyes, and sighed.

“Come here,” he said in a voice roughened by sleep. He held out his arm, inviting Blaine to lie close beside him.

Blaine slumped down next to him, curling close into his side and trying not to look as pathetic as he felt. Kurt’s arm curled around his shoulders, holding him close. Blaine closed his eyes, breathing in his scent.

“He’ll love you,” Kurt assured him quietly. “And he’ll understand why you had to leave me.” He rubbed Blaine’s arm. “He’ll see how happy you make me and he’ll love you; he loves everyone who makes me happy.”

“What if I’m the exception?” Blaine mumbled, opening his eyes but refusing to look up at Kurt when he felt so small and pitiful. 

A kiss was pressed into his hair. “You won’t be – trust me.”

Blaine was actually shaking when Kurt’s father arrived. Kurt went downstairs to meet him from his cab and help him carry his bag, while Blaine waited in the apartment where he would be able to greet him in a much better manner. He tugged on the corner of his bowtie as he waited and rocked backwards and forwards on his heels, staring at the front door. When he heard Kurt’s voice on the other side accompanied by lower, gruff tones, he wiped his sweaty palms on the legs of his pants. The door opened and he took a deep breath.

Burt Hummel looked nothing like the big, burly man he’d imagined. Though he looked like someone who wouldn’t stand for any nonsense and would be able to tell if someone was lying, the concern and kindness in his eyes was evident, as was the softness in his expression as he looked at Kurt. His expression became more shrewd when his gaze landed on Blaine.

Kurt hurried to stand by Blaine’s side. “Dad, this is my boyfriend, Blaine,” he introduced. “Blaine, this is my dad, Burt.”

Blaine held out his hand and fixed his best friendly smile on his face. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Hummel.”

Mr. Hummel shook his hand, his grip firm. “Good to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you from Kurt these past few months.” He let go of Blaine’s hand and surveyed him for a moment. Blaine tried not to let the fact that his hand was trembling show as he lowered it back to his side. “You have a pretty incredible story from what I’ve been told.”

Blaine wasn’t entirely sure what to say to this, but thankfully Kurt spoke up before he could worry about it.

“Everything I told you is true, dad. Blaine is from 1923 and he came back here a few days ago after he realized he didn’t belong there.”

Mr. Hummel didn’t take his eyes off of Blaine while Kurt spoke, as if he were checking for any sign that what Kurt was saying wasn’t completely true. Blaine felt it was time to be brave and speak up.

“It’s true, sir,” he said, somehow managing to sound calmer and more collected than he felt. “I am originally from the twenties, but travelled here by magic, met Kurt, and fell in love, both with your son and with this time.” Mr. Hummel’s expression didn’t change any and his gaze never wavered. Blaine licked his lips and tried not to start rocking on his heels again. “After a while I began to worry I was doing the wrong thing by staying here. It felt wrong and immoral that I got to choose which time period to live in, so I did what I thought was right and went back to my own time. It didn’t take me long to realize I’d made a mistake. I couldn’t be myself there and I was forced to follow my parents’ wishes, parents who, incidentally, cared very little for me. Worst of all was how much I missed Kurt. I knew I could only be happy if I came back here to a time where I could live my own life and be with the man I loved – with Kurt.”

A hand slid into his own and Blaine looked at Kurt, his nerves abating at the sight of his warm, loving smile. He turned back to face Mr. Hummel. 

“I am in love with your son, Mr. Hummel, and it would mean so much to me if our relationship had your blessing.”

Mr. Hummel’s gaze flickered between Kurt and Blaine for a moment, his expression difficult to read. Blaine discreetly crossed the fingers of his free hand behind his back. He didn’t know what he would do if Kurt’s father didn’t believe them, or if he didn’t approve of their relationship.

“Well, of course you have my blessing,” Mr. Hummel said, smiling at them. His smile softened his eyes and Blaine could see the approval there along with the happiness at their joy in being with each other. “You make each other happy and you love each other – how could I not approve of that?”

Relief flooded though Blaine in a relaxing warmth, like the kind experienced when slipping into a hot bath. Kurt gave his hand a little squeeze and he glanced sideways to see his boyfriend smiling at him, looking pleased.

“You two may not have the most typical relationship,” Mr. Hummel continued, “but that doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter how you met or where you both come from; all that matters is you love each other and you want to spend your future together.” He inclined his head in a small, firm nod which Blaine recognised as signalling the end of his opinion on the matter.

Giving him a grateful smile, Blaine said, “May I offer you a coffee, Mr. Hummel?”

“Coffee would be great, thanks,” Mr. Hummel replied. “And you don’t have to be calling me ‘Mr. Hummel’ all the time; Burt’s fine.”

“I- Okay, um- Burt,” Blaine stammered. He smiled once more before scurrying off into the kitchen to make the coffee.

The rest of the day went a lot more smoothly than Blaine had imagined it would. They talked about Kurt’s work, how everything was back in Lima, and a little about Blaine’s life in the twenties over their coffee. Burt and Blaine then spent a good portion of the afternoon getting to know each other better while Kurt did some work on his laptop. When Rachel arrived home later in the evening they all went out to dinner together. 

Blaine only started worrying again when they got back to the apartment and Burt bade them all goodnight, before retiring to the spare bedroom.

“Should I sleep on the couch tonight?” Blaine asked Kurt as they stood side-by-side brushing their teeth at the sink in Kurt’s bathroom.

Kurt stopped brushing and shot him a confused look in the mirror. “What – why?”

Blaine took his toothbrush out of his mouth. “Because otherwise your father will know we are sleeping together,” he said thickly around his mouthful of toothpaste.

“Blaine.” Kurt spat into the sink. “He won’t care that we’re sharing a bed. We’re both adults in a relationship with each other; it’s only natural that we want to sleep in the same bed.” He rinsed out his mouth and stuck his toothbrush in the holder.

Blaine spat out his mouthful of toothpaste and rinsed his mouth, shoving his toothbrush next to Kurt’s. “But- He would really be okay with it?”

Placing a hand on Blaine’s shoulder, Kurt smiled softly at him. “Of course he would.” He gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “You’re not in the twenties anymore, sweetie; it’s perfectly acceptable to share a bed and have sex with someone before you’re married.” He cast his eyes skyward for a second. “Acceptable to most people, anyway.”

Blaine had blushed at the reminder of the other night and Kurt leaned down to kiss both of his pink cheeks. “You’re still learning about this time. As the weeks go by you’ll see it’s a lot less restrictive and a lot more accepting now compared to what you’re used to.” He kissed Blaine once more, this time on the tip of his nose, and then bumped him gently with his hip. “Now shove over so I can wash my face.”

Kurt had to go back to work the next day, and as Rachel was having lunch with friends before going to work, it meant Blaine was spending the day alone with Burt. Kurt had told him yet again not to worry, before giving him a quick kiss goodbye and heading out the door, but Blaine was still nervous. He wanted the day to go well, and he was still waiting for Burt to threaten him or express his disapproval of him leaving Kurt and being indecisive about where he wanted to stay.

He was right to worry about this. 

Blaine had suggested they go for a walk – something for them to do rather than sitting in the apartment, and a way to help settle and work off some of his nerves – and after they had been out for around five minutes, Burt brought up his return to the twenties.

“You really broke my kid’s heart when you left,” he said, his words and the edge of pain to his voice making a ghost of the agony Blaine had suffered while separated from Kurt sear through him. “It was different to when that jackass Liam left him; it hurt him deeper.”

Blaine frowned down at the sidewalk, screwing up his face against all the old emotions surging up inside him again. “I am so sorry for leaving him. It destroyed me to do it. I will regret it for the rest of my life.”

Burt placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. Blaine looked up at him, his face still creased with pain.

“Now, I don’t want you to regret what you did,” Burt told him firmly, surprising Blaine. “I know why you felt the need to go back and I understand that. I probably would’ve done the same thing in your situation. What I want you to do is learn from it: talk to Kurt whenever you feel overwhelmed, tell him if you lose the sense of belonging again; don’t keep it to yourself so you lose sight of where you want to be.” He patted Blaine’s shoulder when he nodded in response. “Fitting in to life here is going to be hard,” he continued. “It may take years before it feels completely normal and you have to be prepared for that.”

Blaine nodded again. “I know that now. It felt so easy being with Kurt and it seemed so perfect for me to live in this time that I forgot I would still have to work to fit in sometimes. I got a little carried away with how wonderful being in the future was that it hit me hard when I began to really notice the differences.”

“Since you came back here I figure that means you want to stay. I don’t want you to mess up your life by going back again as much as I don’t want to see Kurt hurt if you leave,” Burt said.

“I won’t leave again,” Blaine told him sincerely. “I couldn’t ever go back to that time.”

Burt patted his shoulder one final time, before dropping his hand back to his side. “From what I’ve heard and seen, you seem like a really nice guy, Blaine, and I really am happy for you and Kurt.”

Blaine smiled gratefully, feeling lighter as the remaining nerves lifted. “Thank you, sir.”

Burt smiled. “Let’s go get some coffee,” he suggested. He set off along the street again, Blaine keeping pace beside him. “There’s bound to be a place somewhere along here – this is New York.”

After that Blaine was much more comfortable around Burt and was more than happy to spend time with him. He started opening up more around him, as well, telling him about his hopes for the future and his college plans. It was like he had subconsciously needed Burt to tell him he’d understood why he had gone back to his own time and that he didn’t resent him for putting his son through hell. Approval was something Blaine had strived for his whole life, and he was so glad he had Burt’s.

Kurt arrived home that evening carrying takeout and a hint of worry in his eyes. The wide smile that spread across his face when he saw Burt explaining the finer points of football to Blaine while a game played on TV showed just how delighted and relieved he was that his father and boyfriend were getting along.

“How are my two favorite men?” Kurt asked brightly, joining them in the living area once he’d dumped the food on the table.

Blaine turned to look at him and was greeted with a quick kiss and a tender smile.

“Did you have a good day?” Kurt asked.

“Blaine and I got to know each other a little better,” Burt said. “It was good.”

Kurt’s smile widened, crinkling up his nose. “Great!” He gestured towards the table. “I’ve brought dinner home – Chinese. Let’s go eat before it gets cold.”

As they sat around the table, chatting happily and passing cartons of food around, Blaine was filled with a warmth he’d never really experienced before. It was the comforting, safe feeling of family. He’d felt hints of it when spending time with Rachel and Kurt, but those moments had elicited more of a carefree joy of being with best friends rather than the steady normalcy of being with family. Being with Kurt and his father made him feel like part of a family; he’d never felt that with his own parents.

With the path of his future illuminated by the bright lights of his dreams and the city, and with roads of possibility branching from all aspects of his new life and time, Blaine’s future was set to be everything he had ever wished for. With Burt’s approval and acceptance, Rachel’s friendship, and Kurt’s love and unwavering faith in him, Blaine’s happiness and sense of belonging had never been greater. He may have had to put up one hell of a fight and struggle to get to where he was, but the pain and tears were all worth it when he got to open his eyes every morning to Kurt’s blue eyes and soft smile. He may have had to travel ninety-one years into the future to get here, but he had finally done it; he was home.


	22. Epilogue

Months passed by. Blaine got his job back at the music store, telling the owner he’d decided to make the move from Connecticut and was now staying in New York permanently. The owner was delighted to have Blaine back, though he did ask what had made him change his mind and decide he wanted to live here.

“It was love,” Blaine told him. “I fell in love.”

Blaine was also able to pick up the work towards achieving his diploma where he’d left off, and because of his determination to succeed and his ability to learn quickly, he had his qualification in no time. Armed with this, he was able to apply to the music courses he’d researched at various colleges in the city. To his delight, he received offers of places, making Kurt cry tears of pride and joy as he hugged Blaine so tight the letter got crumpled between them. At the end of summer, Blaine started his course at Manhattan School of Music. 

Kurt was continuing to rise to greater success at work. His ideas and designs were being incorporated more and more into the lines Dalton Designs released, and Blaine was so indescribably proud of him. Some of Kurt’s outfits that made it down the catwalk included little details that he recognised from his own twenties wardrobe: fedora hats, pocket watches hooked onto waistcoats by fine gold chains, and pants cut short to show a bit of ankle. When Rachel pointed this out to Kurt, he blushed and said he supposed Blaine had inspired him. Blaine was filled with a gentle warmth at this, even more so when Kurt started to add a bit of nineteen-twenties style to his own outfits.

Blaine himself was experimenting more with fashion from the twenty-first century. Until recently, he had been taking Kurt’s advice on what to wear and mixing it with the style he was used to, but now that he was much more familiar with the fashions and behavior of people in this time, he picked out his own clothes, favoring tight-fitting pants, cardigans, and bowties. 

Blaine had worried a lot about starting college. Though he had been desperate to go and had been dreaming of it for months, he had been scared about going. It would be his first experience of interacting with people his own age in this time, people who may become friends of his, without Kurt being there. He had worried about saying the right things, behaving in the correct manner, and whether he knew enough about modern music to hold a conversation with his classmates. Once again, Kurt had thought his worries were futile.

“They’ll love you, B,” Kurt had assured him when Blaine admitted his fears the night before classes were due to start. “You charm everyone you meet.”

Nibbling on his bottom lip, Blaine plucked at the bed covers. “But what if they think charming is old fashioned?”

Kurt had shaken his head, looking like he was struggling to hold back a smile. “Charm never goes out of fashion, Blaine,” he said. Shifting on the bed, he had reached up and brushed a loose eyelash off Blaine’s cheek. “The girls will think you’re sweet and the guys will think you’re friendly and passionate, and they’ll all be envious of your talent.” He kissed the spot where the eyelash had been.

Blaine had frowned a little at this, his fears beginning to abate a little. He still didn’t feel reassured enough for the knot of worry in his stomach to ease. “I don’t want them to envy me; I want them to like me.”

Smiling gently, Kurt had rubbed his shoulder with his thumb. “They will, honey, they will.” His smile widened. “And if they don’t, I’ll have words with them.” With a mischievous edge to his smile, his hand moved from Blaine’s shoulder down to his waist. “How could they not love your cute little face?” he said brightly, leaning down and kissing every inch of Blaine’s face he could reach, while his hand slid up underneath Blaine’s shirt to tickle at his sides and belly.

Squirming, Blaine laughed. “Kurt!” he shouted in protest, giggling into Kurt’s smiling mouth and pulling his boyfriend closer when his tickling turned to caressing.

And that had been the end of that.

One evening, several months into his first year at college, Blaine was messing around on the piano, playing a few bars of music here and there as he worked on an assignment for one of his classes. Kurt was lounging on the couch nearby, flicking through the latest issue of Vogue. Blaine was just playing whatever felt right to him in that moment, trying to relay the peaceful happiness, warm domesticity, and love he was feeling; how he felt every evening he and Kurt spent like this: doing their own thing, but still together and sharing the moment. 

He had just finished playing the longest string of notes yet and was scrawling the music down on some paper for his assignment, when Kurt spoke for the first time since they’d finished clearing away after dinner.

“You’re amazing at playing the soundtrack to the moment,” he commented. 

Blaine looked up from his notes to find Kurt watching him with a fond smile. 

“I don’t know how you do it; it’s incredible.”

The musings that had been swirling in erratic flurries in the back of Blaine’s mind since he’d got his place at college settled into clear realization and understanding. He’d always known he’d wanted to study music, but had never been so sure of what to actually do with his degree. He had rotated through a shifting spectrum of careers and futures, changing his mind so many times that he had never been sure if he would rather teach or perform, collaborate or compose. But now the carousel of possibilities had stopped and he knew exactly what he wanted to do.

“I want to compose professionally when I graduate,” he announced slowly, testing the sound of the words, the feel of them falling from his lips. “I want to write the music to set the scene; to tell an entire story without words.” He blinked and focussed his gaze upon Kurt again. “I used to unconsciously pick out the dark, loud songs to play when I was angry and the soft, delicate ones for when I was sad or lonely – I’ve been using music to express my emotions for years. But I could be the one to write the notes of joy and the chords of love; to turn what I’m feeling and experiencing into my own songs.”

Kurt’s smile made his eyes crinkle at the corners. “Whatever you choose to do with your music you’ll go far in, I know it,” he said confidently. “You’re so talented, Blaine, and your music is beautiful.”

Blaine returned his smile, before capping his pen and tidying up his stack of notes and books. “I think I’ll stop work for the night – this isn’t due for weeks yet.” 

Kurt held up his magazine, shaking it slightly. “Do you wanna read Vogue with me?”

“Like you had to ask,” Blaine replied, joining Kurt on the couch and snuggling his head against his shoulder as his boyfriend flipped back to the beginning of the article he was reading. 

Blaine devoted a little of his spare time every week to studying history. He used the internet to read up on all the significant events that had happened in the years he had jumped through time, wanting to know what he’d missed. Kurt told him about some things that had happened more recently, such as the passing of the bill to allow homosexual couples to marry in several states, not being at all put off by Blaine’s many questions. 

When Blaine learned about the Second World War, he was immediately worried. The war had started not many years after he had left the past, so it had most definitely affected people he knew. He tried to tell himself that it would have been fine and that looking into it would only torment him, but eventually he became so distressed over it all that he had to do some more research into it. With Kurt’s support and help, he looked into records of the war, searching for one name in particular; he needed to know if Wes had fought in the war, and if he had, whether he had made it home safely afterwards.

“There,” Kurt said softly, pointing at a name in a list of soldiers in a particular army unit that had fought on the front line. 

His heart quickening with fear, Blaine looked to where Kurt’s finger was pointing. He breathed out slowly as he read Wes’ name. Of course, there was every chance this was another Wes, but he doubted it. He could feel it in his gut; this was his friend.

They researched further, spending another few hours going through everything they could find about that particular army division, trying to check if they’d found the right Wes and if he’d returned safely after the war. They hit dead ends so many times, Kurt began to get frustrated, cursing slow-loading websites under his breath, but Blaine remained calm, almost numbly so, his fear too great to get annoyed over anything. Finally, after many fruitless searches, it was Kurt taking a stab in the dark and searching for Wes’ name along with the name of the business firm he had worked for that they found what they had been searching for.

It was an article in a New York business newspaper, one that had been archived online. It was dated 1948. The headline was about some major changes that had recently taken place in the company. Blaine scanned the text, searching for Wes’ name.

 _‘One of these staff changes includes the promotion of 47-year-old Wes Montgomery to vice chairman. Mr. Montgomery, who has worked for the company since 1922, is already bringing fresh ideas to a boardroom that has been filled with the same faces for almost a decade,’_ Blaine read out loud. Breathing out a sigh of relief, he sat back, sagging in his chair.

Kurt continued to read the rest of the article, before looking at him. “It mentions the war,” he said. “Just a short piece about how he left to fight, and was then promoted not long after returning to work.”

Blaine nodded, relief still making him feel shaky. “At least we now know for sure something awful didn’t happen to him while he was out fighting for his country.”

Blaine was satisfied now. He had no further urges to look into the lives of people he’d known in the past. They had all lived and then passed on; he knew and had accepted that. Learning every detail of their lives after he’d left would only plague him. Just before he had travelled back to this time, Wes had told him to leave the past behind him, and that’s what he was going to do.

Kurt wasn’t so certain about this. He looked hesitantly at the computer screen again. “Are you sure you don’t want to check up on anyone else? Just to make sure they had a good life?” He looked back at Blaine, a question in his eyes. He hesitated again, before quietly asking, “Not even your parents?”

Resolute, Blaine shook his head. “I can’t change the past in any way – what has happened has happened. It won’t do any good for me to know anymore.” Kurt was still looking slightly unsure, so Blaine elaborated, wanting him to understand his stance on this. “When I chose to come back to this time, I chose to leave 1923 and everything that I knew and loved from then behind, including my friends and family. I didn’t feel guilty in doing so; I felt like I was doing what was right. I have no guilt to try and alleviate by checking if everyone I left behind was happy. I said goodbye to them and now they’re in my past, where they shall stay.”

The uncertainty had faded from Kurt’s face. A flash of confusion flitted across it. “But – why?”

“Did I look up Wes?” Blaine finished. Kurt nodded and Blaine lifted his hands in a small gesture of supplication. “You told me about the war and I panicked. Wes was my closest friend until I met you,” he explained in a soft voice, his eyes on his boyfriend. “I acted without thinking, and before I could remind myself that his life was nothing to do with me anymore, the worry had planted itself in my head.”

Kurt was still nodding his head, slowly and thoughtfully. When Blaine placed a hand atop one of his boyfriend’s, Kurt gave him an understanding smile. 

“I get it,” he said. “It makes sense, really.” He flipped over the hand beneath Blaine’s so their fingers could interlock. “You’re really happy to start a whole new life here?” he asked softly.

“I am,” Blaine replied without hesitation. “I have everything I want here: my dreams, my future, my love…” He squeezed Kurt’s hand and Kurt’s eyes shone with joy and adoration. “This doesn’t feel like starting over; it feels like coming home.” 

“Blaine…”

Kurt leaned in and kissed him, his lips warm and soft against Blaine’s, their hands still linked in the small space between their bodies. Letting his eyes slip closed, Blaine deepened the kiss, his heart swelling with love, belonging, and home. 

Time was the road to anticipated events and achievements. It was a measure of when to meet for mid-day coffee breaks, a marker of the exact moment Kurt threw his arms around him and kissed him fiercely when he got offered the opportunity to compose the music for a short film, and a way of counting down until they were due to leave for a visit to Kurt’s family in Ohio. It was no longer the chains holding Blaine back from achieving happiness, or the wall that separated him from Kurt. Blaine looked forward to experiencing more of time and reminiscing fondly about past moments of it. Time was no longer Blaine and Kurt’s enemy; it was just another piece of their lives together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! Thanks to everyone who read this story! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my beta, BleedingHeartsBeFree! :)


End file.
